


Fang and Claw

by Marengo227



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, Animal Death, F/F, Horror, Hurt/Comfort, Keeping it M to be safe, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Romance, Who even knows what I might add later, no beta we die like Glenn, slight AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-19
Updated: 2020-05-04
Packaged: 2021-02-23 06:53:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 28,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23207419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marengo227/pseuds/Marengo227
Summary: "Dorothea wasn’t sure how long it took for her to get her bearings again. The moon was still shining when she did, and all she could think to do was bang her fists on the door, screaming for somebody to let her out. Nobody answered."After a private performance gone wrong, Dorothea is left in a terrifying position, with her only comfort being the woman she's so terrified of.
Relationships: Dorothea Arnault/Edelgard von Hresvelg, Dorothea Arnault/Marianne von Edmund
Comments: 40
Kudos: 59





	1. Chapter 1

Dorothea didn’t do private performances. That was a rule she had followed ever since some greasy noble tried to grope her during an impromptu song at a dinner party. She could still recall the man grinning, thinking he was on top of the world. Unfortunately for him, she had been holding onto her wine glass at the time. On the bright side, it was hard for him to look any uglier, even with the scars from broken glass all over his cheek.

So after that event, why would Dorothea ever even consider the mere notion of a private performance? Well, she was desperate. Ever since the battle of Garreg Mach, she’d been unable to gain much traction. After all, Adrestia was taking more territory every day, and she had made the foolish decision of actually fighting them. Sure, if she got in front of Edelgard and begged hard enough, she’d probably be pardoned. But she had no doubt the emperor would use it as leverage to wrap Dorothea around her finger. And then she’d have to fight again.

It took a year after Garreg Mach for Dorothea to give up on the fighting. She was helping some small-time resistance movement. They had fashioned themselves as a bunch of heroes, fighting for the people. And she had believed it. Then they were cornered by Imperial forces, and to escape, the rebels set fire to a small village. And ever since then, just the sight of violence was enough to make her retch. So all she had left was her career as a songstress, and again, she was losing job security by the day.

All that Dorothea had left was her sponsor. Her mysterious, anonymous, and very wealthy sponsor. She had gotten to know the representative better than the man himself. An older woman named Emma would occasionally arrive at one of her shows and give her an envelope. And inside the envelope was always just enough money to get her by until the next visit. Dorothea didn’t even know the man’s name.

And then, for seemingly no reason, Emma met Dorothea not with an envelope, but with an offer. Give a private performance at her sponsor’s estate, and in return, she would be guaranteed a stable stream of income that would keep her afloat for the rest of her life. It was too good to be true. But Dorothea didn’t have the luxury of worrying about that. It was just one song, she reasoned with herself as she stepped into the carriage and was sent off to the estate. Just one song in exchange for the rest of her life.

Emma was as tight-lipped as usual, refusing to disclose any information about the sponsor. All she was at liberty to say was that Dorothea would give one performance of the song _A Funeral for Amelie_ in the garden behind her sponsor’s estate, and that in exchange she would never have to fear poverty again. It was her dream. So why did it feel so wrong? Why _Amelie_? It was by no means the most popular song she had ever performed, and she didn’t even think it was the highest quality.

Part of Dorothea wanted to simply cast these fears aside. This was a time for celebration, after all. Her future was secured. But she couldn’t help but be cautious, and she knew why. It was because of _her_.

_“Edie, this isn’t true, is it?”_

Dorothea shook her head. This wasn’t the time to think about it. Edelgard took up too much of her thoughts already. She looked out the window, watching the trees go by. She had tried to keep track of where they had been going, but eventually she found herself unable to keep up. It felt like they had been taking the most confusing route possible.

As Dorothea lazily stared out of the carriage, she spotted an elk prancing by. She was surprised the creature would venture so close to them. Then, she noticed a young one walking by it. They seemed completely unfazed by the carriage. Emma, too, didn’t look bothered by them, continuing to drive the carriage as if it were nothing. “We’re almost to the estate,” Emma hollered so Dorothea could hear.

Eventually they passed through an iron gate, approaching the estate itself. Dorothea waited patiently for the carriage to stop before exiting, and politely denied any assistance from Emma. Her first thought upon getting a look at the estate was if she had stepped into the pages of a fairy tale.

The estate was covered in flora. The front garden was vast, almost untamed, but the plants all bent to the will of whatever artist sculpted them. Flowers of all sorts bloomed, and everything looked as healthy as could be. Birds lazed around in fountains, bees collected pollen, and various dogs and cats roamed the grounds. “Come,” Emma said, snapping Dorothea out of her shock. “I will show you to your quarters.”

The inside of the estate was far less wild than the outside, but even then, flowers sat on windowsills, and pots hanging from the ceiling contained moss that flowed down the sides. Dorothea counted around a dozen servants as she walked to her room, all tending to various tasks. She passed by a large staircase leading to a second floor, but spotted no entrance to the third floor she had seen while outside.

“This place is beautiful,” Dorothea said, unable to look at any one spot for more than a few seconds.

“The master is one who admires nature,” Emma explained. “The estate is intended to reflect this appreciation.” As they walked, an orange striped cat rubbed itself against Dorothea’s leg.

“Hey there, kitty,” Dorothea said, crouching to pet the cat. However, upon seeing Emma sternly gazing at her, she decided against it. It seemed she wasn’t intended to loiter. Once they arrived at Dorothea’s room, Emma unlocked it with one of the numerous keys on her keyring.

“This will be your abode for your time here,” Emma explained. “The door will not be locked, of course; this is in case of an emergency. However, I must ask that you refrain from traveling anywhere in the estate without express permission to do so.”

“Of course,” Dorothea said. She knew how anal nobles could get about rules, especially when their own property was involved. Assured that she understood, Emma gave a small curtsey, explaining she would return with dinner shortly.

Dorothea’s room was very large, yet very quaint. There was one window with a couple potted plants resting next to it. There were all the normal amenities that any house in a noble’s estate would have, but besides that, there wasn’t much to speak of. The floor had been polished to a mirror shine, no doubt in anticipation for her arrival. And the bed looked like not a soul had ever slept in it. Knowing how reclusive her sponsor was, she wondered if that was actually true.

It wasn’t until Dorothea laid down that she realized just how tired she was. It had been a bit hard to sleep in the moving carriage, and so she spent most of the time simply lost in thought. But now she felt like she could sleep instantly. She knew that dinner would be arriving shortly, but the prospect of a nap tempted her greatly. Surely, just a few minutes of relaxation couldn’t hurt. She closed her eyes and settled in.

When Dorothea’s eyes opened, she found herself in a ballroom. It was a dream; she knew this, because it was the same dream she seemed to have every night. And just like every night, she found herself leaving the ballroom as if her legs had minds of their own. All around her, students of the Officers Academy were dancing, talking, laughing, having a wonderful time. But Dorothea simply felt empty. She felt as if she needed to leave, to find something that would make this night worthwhile. She needed to find Edelgard.

Dorothea walked through the halls of Garreg Mach, and just like always, she already knew where to go. She made her way to the bridge connecting the main hall to the chapel. It could be a bit imposing to stand there sometimes, with such a dizzying drop below. But she felt calm, knowing what was ahead.

Indeed, just as she had known, Dorothea saw the woman she had been looking for leaning against the railing, staring out into the horizon with those mystifying, enchanting eyes that enraptured her so greatly. “Edie,” Dorothea said, approaching the princess, “what’s the matter? It’s not proper for the Adrestian heir to skip out on such an important social gathering.”

“I wasn’t under the impression you cared so much about that,” Edelgard said, keeping her gaze at the horizon.

“Well, you caught me there. But I did assume it was something you cared about, if for no other reason than formalities.” Dorothea leaned on the railing right next to Edelgard, taking in the view.

“I needed the fresh air,” Edelgard explained. “There’s a lot on my mind.”

“Remire,” Dorothea concluded. The princess nodded.

“The carnage that was committed at Remire village was despicable. I can’t stop thinking about it.”

Dorothea nodded. “Those monsters deserve to pay. I heard that Flame Emperor guy tried to pretend he wasn’t involved. What a coward.” Edelgard didn’t say anything. “And even if he wasn’t, he’s still as much of a monster as the ones who were. You are who you associate with, as they say.”

“Still,” Edelgard said, “I do admire his tenacity. It truly seems that he has the drive to carry out his goal of reshaping the world.”

“Hey, you feeling alright?” Dorothea asked, setting a hand on Edelgard’s. “You’ve been saying some weird stuff tonight.” Edelgard finally turned her head to look at her. The look in her eyes was that same analytical gaze she always gave, but this time it felt deeper, like she was trying to see the essence of her soul. Dorothea found herself blushing. Then, Edelgard leaned in and planted a quick kiss on her lips.

Dorothea was left stunned into silence, even as Edelgard calmly leaned back and returned her gaze to the horizon. It was a wonderful memory to revisit every night in such vivid detail. It also made Dorothea feel like she was going to go crazy. It was the spark of a relationship that she wished could have gone on forever.

But as Dorothea’s eyes fluttered open, staring up at the ceiling of her temporary room, she once again remembered that her time with Edelgard had been destined to end. _“If anyone tries to stop our retrieval of the crest stones, kill them.”_ Edelgard’s words rang in her mind.

Dorothea noticed the plate of food sitting by her door. Emma must have set it there while she was asleep. When she retrieved it, she noted it was rather lukewarm by this point. It made sense, considering it was now dark outside. So much for a quick nap. Still, the food was quite enjoyable, thanks to it being a salad. It reminded her of one of the meals she would often enjoy at the monastery.

It was during the middle of her meal that Dorothea noticed a faint noise coming from above her. It was a heavy thumping, only having traveled to her room as the harsh reverb it left. Perhaps there was construction work going on in one of the higher floors. It would explain why she wasn’t allowed to explore on her own. But then, wouldn’t Emma have simply said so? She found it impossible to sleep thanks to the pounding sound as well as the dream. So she decided to focus on the noise and see what she could gather from it.

The first thing Dorothea noticed was that the intervals between each thump were never regular. Sometimes it would be almost constant, while other times there would be long gaps of time before another one sounded. And the volume was variable as well. As she continued paying attention to the sound, she found herself slowly starting to drift back to sleep. It was as if she were counting sheep.

As one often does when falling asleep, Dorothea didn’t even realize that it had happened until she was woken up by Emma, who was knocking on the door. The morning sunlight shone through her window, forcing her eyes to adjust to the sudden light. “Ms. Arnault, are you awake?” Emma asked politely from the other side of the door. Dorothea couldn’t remember the last time someone had called her by her last name only.

“Yes, I’m awake. You may enter.” Dorothea sat up, brushing some hair out of her face. The door to her room opened as Emma walked inside, carrying a tray of scrambled eggs and now wearing a more traditional maid’s uniform, as opposed to the standard clothes she had on the day prior for the carriage ride. “I am here with your breakfast for the morning.” She set it at the foot of the bed.

“No bacon?” Dorothea asked in an attempt to break the ice.

“The master prohibits the consumption of meat in the estate,” Emma explained. “My apologies if that discomforts you.”

“No, not at all,” Dorothea hastily said. “I think that’s rather admirable.” She leaned over to grab the tray of eggs and began eating. “Wow, this is delicious,” she remarked. “Where do you get your eggs from?”

“We grow them here,” Emma answered. “The estate is entirely self-sufficient, as per the master’s wishes.” Makes sense, Dorothea thought to herself, considering her sponsor was such a recluse. She had seen shy people (Bernadetta immediately came to mind), but this took the cake. “Here,” she said, handing a copper bell to Dorothea. “Ring this once you have finished so the servants know you are ready to be dressed.”

“I think I can dress myself, if that’s alright,” Dorothea said, a bit embarrassed by the idea. Back when she was at the opera house, the urgency of costume switches and the like meant that she was getting in and out of different clothes, with backstage workers helping her. But even then, it took her quite a while to get used to it. She wasn’t sure how to feel about complete strangers seeing her nude.

Emma shook her head. “The master has requested that you be assisted in getting dressed. A dress has been selected for you, and the servants will additionally be preparing your hair and makeup.” Dorothea almost continued arguing for her privacy, but she decided she could let it pass. So long as she didn’t catch any of those servants ogling her, of course. If that happened, there would be hell to pay.

After a curtsy from Emma, Dorothea was left to eat her meal in peace. She took her time, wishing to savor the food. Occasionally she would glance out of her window, getting a view of the gardens behind the estate. They were just as gorgeous as the ones in front, if not more so. There was a lovely hedge maze, archways adorned with flowers, and even a wooden gazebo painted white. She noticed a servant cleaning the gazebo and wondered if that would be where she was to perform.

Once the meal was finished, Dorothea set the empty tray on the nightstand by the bed and rang the copper bell. In no time at all, two servant girls entered the room, carrying clothing and makeup. She got out of bed and walked up to them, nodding in acknowledgement. At the very least, she knew how this sort of thing went. One of the servants walked to the window and closed the curtains as the other began to undress Dorothea.

It was uncomfortable to be bare like this. The only reason Dorothea had gotten used to it in the opera house was because of the routine of it, in addition to the familiarity of those assisting her with costume changes. These girls looked nice, but they were still strangers. Her dress was folded and set aside by one girl as the other began helping Dorothea into her new dress. She was shocked by the quality of it. It was silk, no doubt about that, but it felt somehow smoother than other silk clothing she had worn in the past.

What really struck Dorothea about the dress was the way it looked. It was a crimson red with intricate darkly colored patterns running all over it, twirling and splitting to create designs reminiscent of flowers. It was accompanied by a green brooch hanging from her neck that mirrored the color of her eyes.

Dorothea’s hair was left mostly the same as it usually was, though the servants did make it somewhat more wavy. A minimal amount of makeup was applied, mostly consisting of eyeshadow and lipstick. Even then, they brought out her features more than they did replace them. It was clear that these girls were professionals.

Once they were done, Dorothea was told to wait until it was time for the performance. She was fine with that; it gave her an opportunity to practice. She probably should have done so during the carriage ride, but something about Emma’s presence made her rather nervous. _A Funeral for Amelie_ was a tune that she was admittedly a little rusty with. The show it belonged to, _Betrayal Under the Pegasus Moon_ , was by no means a success, and so the troupe only performed it the bare minimum times it had already been scheduled for before shelving it. She couldn’t blame them; the opera was melodramatic at best and pretentious at worst. The only reason she remembered it all that well was because it was the last show she did before joining the Officers Academy.

Getting into the headspace of the character was the toughest part of the process. In the show, Dorothea had played a girl named Lyla, who was the embodiment of what men writing operas thought women acted like. She was constantly swooning over the male protagonists, but also too embarrassed to pursue them. She would worry about how she looked in case one of the men happened to be nearby. The most infuriating part was how she would cry for help at even the slightest bit of trouble so that the male characters could solve it. She was nothing more than a pretty voice that made the men in the show look good. _Amelie_ shouldn’t have even been sung by Lyla. After all, the titular character barely interacted with her at all before her death, and yet for some reason Lyla felt the need to sing about the tragedy of the situation. It was all so idiotic.

Still, Dorothea bottled up those feelings and adopted the persona of the lovestruck, hopeless, ditzy girl known as Lyla, all so she could properly sing this mediocre piece. She ran through her scales, tested her vibrato (the song used it quite liberally), and ran through it a few times until she felt satisfied. When it became clear that she had finished a little early, she decided to keep practicing until someone came to retrieve her.

It wasn’t until well after noon that Emma knocked on her door. “Ms. Arnault, may I come in?” Dorothea gave her permission. “My apologies for the wait.” She entered carrying a glass of wine. “The master is having to attend to a few unexpected emergencies, so I’m afraid the performance will be postponed a few hours more. However, it is still scheduled to be today. I thought a glass might help with waiting.” She offered it to Dorothea, who accepted it graciously.

“I see,” Dorothea said. “Thank you, Emma.” She thought to ask for lunch while she waited, but decided she didn’t want to risk the food messing with her throat in any way. Taking a small sip of her wine, she smiled. “It’s delicious. Tell your master that I greatly appreciate it.” Emma nodded and curtsied before leaving the room.

Dorothea continued to practice, taking the occasional sip from her wine glass. It really was quite good, no doubt from a long period of ageing. She wondered just what kind it was. After all, her donor had already pulled out all the stops, so she doubted he was going to skimp on the drinks. A friend of hers came to mind; he was a co-star in one of her more critically acclaimed shows, and he had the uncanny ability to tell what wine he was drinking and how long it had been aged with almost perfect accuracy. She once asked him to teach her his secret, only for him to give a coy smile and shake his head. She wondered what happened to him, as well as many castmates from the opera house, once Edelgard took the throne. It was hard to keep in touch when she was considered an enemy of the empire.

At one point, Dorothea pulled the curtains back and gazed out the window. She spotted a servant entering from the back gate, carrying a rather large burlap sack. At first she thought nothing of it, assuming it to be grains or something similar, but she grew somewhat nervous when she noticed the bottom of the sack was stained a dark red. More than likely it was simply part of an animal carcass that was still bloody, but hadn’t Emma said that the estate lived on a vegetarian diet? Dorothea chided herself, thinking she was being too cautious. All that worrying would affect her performance.

It wasn’t until the sun began to dip towards the horizon that Emma entered once more. “It is time for your performance, Ms. Arnault,” she said. Dorothea nodded, following her out of the room.

As they headed to the gardens behind the estate, Dorothea decided to ask about the burlap sack. “I saw a servant carrying a sack. It appeared to be bloodied. I assume it was an animal, but I thought that the meals were vegetarian.” She hadn’t intended for it to sound so accusatory, but it was too late to take it back.

Emma looked at Dorothea with a stern gaze. “Ms. Arnault, if I were you, I would focus on the performance. There is no need for you to worry about the affairs of this estate.” Her words were much kinder than Dorothea’s, but her tone was far sharper. She took the hint, shutting up about the subject.

Just as Dorothea had predicted, she was led to the gazebo out back. She looked to the manor, spotting a balcony on the second floor that overlooked the garden. And standing on that balcony was a figure wearing a red hood. There was no doubt in Dorothea’s mind that the person up there was her mysterious sponsor. Though she could not see his face, she felt vulnerable as he looked upon her. The only other time she had felt this way was when Edelgard would look at her, analyzing her every movement.

Dorothea pushed Edelgard out of her mind and tried her best to simply focus on the song. Emma reentered the manor, leaving her alone out there. Well, not entirely alone. She still had her sponsor watching her. She took a deep breath, allowed her heart a few more moments to beat wildly, and then breathed out, feeling it begin to settle. Then, at last, she began to sing.

In times like these, when fully devoted to the performance, Dorothea vanished. Her body was instead inhabited by her character, using her voice to express emotions that the character otherwise could not. The character may have been a vapid airhead, but in this moment, she was able to voice a deeper emotion that she had been previously denied. She was allowed to mourn for Amelie, a girl that she wished she had gotten to know better, a kindred spirit who was stolen too soon. This one-dimensional cliche was allowed to become a true person through the words she sang and the voice she used to sing them.

The evening sun was beginning to fall into the mountains in the horizon, casting the garden in a hazy orange glow. As that glow grew more intense in its color, Dorothea watched her sponsor turn around and leave, right in the middle of the song. Dorothea faltered for a second, tried to continue a little longer, and then stopped as she realized her sponsor wasn’t coming back. Her heart sank. She had botched it, hadn’t she?

Emma left the building and approached Dorothea. “My apologies, Ms. Arnault, but the master is not feeling very well.” It was an obvious lie. “I will escort you back to your room. Please, follow me.” She hesitantly obliged, heading back to her room with Emma leading her. Once again, there were no detours, leaving her scarcely any time to truly appreciate the beauty of the manor.

Emma didn’t even curtsey before she left, simply leaving without a word. Dorothea was left alone, her mind scrambling to figure out what she had done wrong. Was her voice too pitchy? Did she accidentally skip a verse? None of these answers felt right, but she knew something had gone amiss.

Then, Dorothea heard it. The banging. Just like last night, it was irregular in both frequency and intensity. As the sound continued, Dorothea had a terrible idea. She couldn’t risk losing out on the promised financial security because of one performance gone wrong. So she headed to the door and opened it, stepping out of her room. She headed to the staircase based on her memory of the estate’s layout, continuing to listen for the banging sound. On the second floor, she still heard it above her, meaning it was coming from the third story. It seemed as good a place as any to assume her sponsor was, so she began looking for a way up.

As Dorothea explored the second floor, she ran into a couple servants who almost immediately asked her what she was doing there. “Don’t worry, Emma gave me permission,” she said, the lie coming out easily. They seemed a bit wary, but they let her by. The second floor was just as lavish as the first, with plantlife all over. Something that caught her attention was the fact that there were no cats or dogs like there had been earlier. In fact, she hadn’t seen them at all since the performance. Her instincts kept telling her to go back to her room before she got caught, but her curiosity kept her going.

At this point, apologizing to her sponsor was the last thing on Dorothea’s mind. Something about that banging sound was starting to deeply worry her. She eventually found a hatch on the ceiling, and pulling it open allowed a ladder to slide down. It startled her a bit, but it was nothing compared to what happened next. The banging continued, but with the hatch now open, she heard something accompanying it.

Someone was screaming. As Dorothea scurried up the ladder, she stopped being the songstress and started being the soldier she had been trained to become so long ago. Someone was in trouble. Thoughts raced through her head, but one that stuck around was that this was her sponsor’s secret. She knew there had to be something. All nobles had some skeletons in their closet. Why hadn’t she paid more attention last night? Damn it, someone was in danger, and she had used those sounds to fall asleep!

After climbing the ladder, Dorothea found herself in an expansive attic, mostly furnished with old decorations covered in white sheets. She realized she wasn’t alone and hurriedly ducked behind a chair. She could hear talking above the screaming and banging. “I’m worried about the flooring,” a man said. “What if she tries using it?”

“Replacing the floor with metal will take too long and raise too much attention.” Dorothea recognized that voice. It was Emma. “Besides, she hasn’t tried yet. It will be alright.”

There was a sigh. “Alright, if you say so. I’ll trust you on this.”

“I would not do this if it wasn’t the best option. You know that.”

“Right, right. What’re you gonna go do?”

“I will arrange transportation for our guest. She’ll be gone before noon tomorrow.”

“If only things had gone better. We should not have delayed the performance.”

The voices began to drown out as Dorothea realized what was happening. Someone was being held captive. Was she supposed to have been next? All she knew was she had to get that girl out of there. She heard footsteps, signaling that the two were coming towards her. She hurried to the next side of the chair, staying crouched and deathly silent. The footsteps paused near the exit. “Did you leave this open?” Emma asked.

“I thought I’d closed it. I’m sorry.”

“Sorry won’t help us if something happens.” The ladder could be heard creaking as Emma and the other man climbed down. Dorothea waited a few moments before sighing in relief. She returned her attention to the screaming, hurrying over to the source. At the end of the attic, past all of the old decorations and plentiful dust, was a metal door, completely different from anything else in the estate. It was cold and thick, clearly meant to keep something in. Keeping _someone_ in.

Dorothea crouched down in front of the singular lock, grabbing the hairpin the servants had put in her hair and fashioning it into a lockpick. Ashe had taught her this trick back at the academy, but she never thought she’d get any use out of it. The screaming and banging was making it hard to focus, but eventually Dorothea heard the telltale click that signaled an unlocked door. She stood up and pulled the door open, struggling a bit with how heavy it was. It creaked and groaned as it moved aside. The only source of light in the room in front of her was moonlight flooding in from behind, only barely allowing her to see.

The screaming and banging had stopped. Dorothea slowly entered, wondering if there was someone else in there besides the girl. Perhaps they had been torturing her. Just in case, she grabbed the nearest object to the doorway, a heavy vase.

The first thing that caught Dorothea’s attention was the stench. She had to cover her nose with one hand, unable to stand rotten, putrid smell. It brought back bad memories, the kinds that made her feel sick. “Hello?” she said, looking around for any signs of life. “You don’t need to be afraid. I’m here to get you out.” Damned nobles. What was this man doing in here?

The sound of heavy, strained breathing caught Dorothea’s attention next. “Are you hurt? I-I don’t know much about white magic, but I’m sure I can--” Dorothea’s foot hit something. She looked down and screamed, falling onto her back. It was a cow’s head. It stared at her with massive chunks torn out of its flesh, skin still hanging off wounds and blood pooling around it. Dorothea turned away, throwing up onto the floor. The acidic taste of her own meal coated her tongue as she coughed and sputtered up the last chunks that lingered in her mouth. The smell of the cow’s head was still omnipresent, but she slowly forced herself to look back at it.

Dorothea could see someone approaching from behind the severed head, breathing heavily. They crouched, as if they were about to jump at her. No, she realized, not jump. _Pounce._

The girl was on her before she even realized she had moved. A flurry of movement accompanied raw, feral growling while Dorothea tried desperately to push her away. She couldn’t even tell which screams were her own anymore; they all blended together into a cacophony of terror. Still holding onto the vase, she swung right at the girl’s head. It connected with a loud thunk, sending the girl flying off of her. Dorothea scrambled back, trying to stand up, but something stopped her. It was the sight of the girl, whimpering, laying on the ground. It was the bright blue hair that went down to her shoulders, unkept and gnarled, like a feral animal’s. It was--

“Marianne,” Dorothea whispered in horror. Before she had time to process what she was seeing or figure out what to do next, someone grabbed her by the back of her collar and yanked her away, practically choking her. The door slammed shut in front of her, just in time for Marianne to collide with it, screaming and howling once more. Emma ran past Dorothea, grabbing her keyring and using the right one to lock the door once again. The servant sighed, her shoulders heaving up and down with each breath. After a few seconds, Emma turned around, looking at Dorothea. The girl was just as scared as she was.

“Ms. Arnault,” she said between heavy breaths, “I must ask you to come with me.”

Everything became a blur. Dorothea was yanked up onto her feet and forced down the ladder leading out of the attic. Servants watched as she was practically dragged through the estate by a furious and terrified Emma. She felt like she was going to vomit again as dizziness overtook her vision. Once they arrived at her room, she was quite literally shoved inside. The door shut and locked behind her, leaving her alone and trapped.

Dorothea wasn’t sure how long it took for her to get her bearings again. The moon was still shining when she did, and all she could think to do was bang her fists on the door, screaming for somebody to let her out. Nobody answered. Her next thought was to try and break the door down using some magic. But much to her shock, she couldn’t seem to manifest anything. Not even a simple fire spell was working. She kept focusing, trying to force the energy into existence, but it simply wouldn’t work. “What’s happening!? Damnit!” She went back to trying to get someone’s attention by slamming her hands against the door, but all it accomplished was making her hands ache.

Dorothea thought to escape through the window, but realized it was far too small for her to fit through. There were no loose floorboards, no weak walls, nothing. There was no way for her to escape. By the time morning came, Dorothea hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep, and was sitting against the door, curled up in a ball.

Then, someone knocked on the door. Dorothea cried out in fear, springing up to her feet and backing away. “Ms. Arnault,” Emma called out from the other side. “There are things we must discuss.”

“Stay away!” Dorothea shouted, looking for anything she could use as a weapon.

“Ms. Arnault, I must insist you--” Emma suddenly went silent. For a few seconds, Dorothea could hear nothing but her own strained breathing. She stared at the door.

“...Dorothea?” a gentle voice said from the other side of the door. Dorothea’s eyes widened as she realized who she was listening to. “Dorothea, I’m coming in,” Marianne said. The doorknob twisted. Dorothea ran back to the opposite side of the room, pressing her back against the wall.

The door opened and Marianne stepped inside. She was dressed in a blue gown, holding her hands together. “Hello, Dorothea,” she said, looking at her old classmate. “May we talk?” Dorothea said nothing, staying still. “I did not intend for you to witness the events of last night, but I assure you that I mean you no harm.” She motioned to the bed. “Would you like to sit down?”

Dorothea stayed where she was, looking at Marianne. She seemed so elegant, so kind, so unlike what Dorothea had witnessed. Hesitantly, slowly, Dorothea approached her bed, sitting down. “Thank you,” Marianne said, staying by the door. “I’m sure you must have many questions. I will answer them to the best of my ability.”

“The…” Dorothea found herself at a loss for words. “I don’t…”

“Perhaps,” Marianne said, “I should simply try to explain myself. The estate you are in is mine. The servants, Emma included, are under my employment. This is the last piece of land owned under the von Edmund name. I’m sure you must have gathered by now that...that I am your sponsor.”

“But the man torturing you--”

Marianne shook her head. “I apologize if that was the impression you had from last night’s events. There was no man torturing me. I chose to put myself in there. The sounds you heard were...not me. Well, I suppose that’s not the correct thing to say. This is...hard to explain.” Marianne was speaking with much more confidence and refinement than Dorothea remembered her having. But even still, Marianne looked more scared of Dorothea than Dorothea was of her. “Surely you must have heard of what happened after my father’s passing.”

“You...you gave up your seat in the Leicester Alliance,” Dorothea said. She had heard the story, of course, but she never thought much of it. Marianne and her were never close enough to warrant her paying much attention to the situation.

“Indeed. I felt I was unable to fulfill the duties of a proper member of the council. That is because of...what you saw last night. Emma told me that you were quite repulsed by the...head.” Marianne had a hard time saying it. “It repulses me as well. But when that happens, I can’t help myself. I...I’m sorry, none of this is making sense. It’s been some time since I last spoke to anyone from beyond my estate.”

Dorothea felt herself calming down thanks to Marianne’s somewhat nervous mood. It was like she was talking to that shy, quiet girl from the academy, and not the crazed woman she saw last night. Marianne continued. “I bear a crest. It’s...not one of the ten elites. I admit I do not know much about its true nature, other than it bringing a great, beastly power. For me, this began shortly after Garreg Mach fell. I found myself growing hungry. I became jittery and irritable. And eventually, I became unable to think rationally at all. When I came to, I was locked in the attic. I had nearly killed one of my servants.”

“Marianne…” Dorothea whispered.

“This happens every night. As the sun goes down, I begin to grow hungry once again. And that hunger overcomes me, turning me into the creature you witnessed last night. I would never wish to harm a living creature, but when that happens, the only thing that can hope to calm me is meat. Hence the...the cow.” Hence the burlap sack, Dorothea realised. “I never wished for you to discover any of this. I should never have invited you here to perform at all. This is all my fault. I’m so very sorry!” She bowed, now trembling.

“Marianne, I...I’m not sure what to even say,” Dorothea admitted. “But...I need to leave. You must understand that, right?”

Marianne nodded. “I do understand. However…” Her eyes darted away. “I’m sorry, Dorothea. You know my secret. I can not allow you to go back into the wider world and jeopardize the safety of the estate. If anyone were to discover the truth, they would become terrified of me. They would come to this place and burn it to the ground. They would kill everyone here. I can not--” she stopped. “No. I will not let that happen.”

“I-I wouldn’t tell a soul!” Dorothea insisted. “I swear to you, Marianne, that not a word of this will ever leave my lips.”

“I want to trust you, Dorothea…”

“Then trust me! Please!” Dorothea’s pleas made Marianne wince. “Marianne, you can’t...you can’t actually be thinking of keeping me here. Right?”

“Please, understand my position,” Marianne said softly. “Do not attempt to escape. Your meals have been laced with a concoction that inhibits magic use. You will starve to death long before your power returns. If you try to run away, I…” Marianne couldn’t bring herself to finish her threat, but Dorothea understood what was being said. “Please, don’t fight this. I wish there was another way.” She turned and headed for the door.

Dorothea stood up, trying to walk after Marianne. “There is another way! You can let me go, Marianne! Please, you have to!” Marianne hurried and walked out the door, shutting it before Dorothea could run over and get past. As she began banging on the door once more, she heard the lock click into place. “Marianne! Please, open the door! Let me out of here! Marianne! MARIANNE!” Nobody answered.


	2. Chapter 2

Marianne stood in front of the metal door, nervously rubbing her arm. She could already feel herself beginning to grow hungry. The pang that feeling created was agonizing, and she knew that soon it would overtake her rational thoughts. Emma stood beside her with a burlap sack containing her meal for the night.

“Lady Edmund,” Emma said. “I must apologize for the events of last night. I should have been more careful towards Ms. Arnault. Because of my lack of caution, she ended up becoming privy to your secret. Words alone can not describe my regret.”

“No,” Marianne said, shaking her head. “It was a mistake to invite her to begin with. The blame is mine alone. All we can do now is try to provide her a comfortable life here.”

“She will undoubtedly try to escape,” Emma reminded, opening the door. “When that happens, what will you do?” She stepped inside and untied the sack. Marianne said nothing as Emma emptied out the bag, letting the goat’s head it was carrying fall to the ground. Marianne stared at it, feeling her hunger amplify. She had already begun to drool. “Rest assured that I will prevent a situation like this occurring ever again. You have my word.”

Marianne shook her head once more. “No. Please, do not promise me such things. Dorothea is proof that we can never be sure of this secret staying hidden. I know you will do everything in your power to stop this from happening again, but I will stay guarded nonetheless.”

“I understand,” Emma said. She curtsied as Marianne entered containment. “I will see you in the morning.”

“See you,” Marianne said as Emma shut the door. As the lock clicked into place, Marianne breathed in, letting the smell of blood flood her senses. She grew dizzy, putting a hand to her head and eventually falling down. Her breathing became rough and ragged, and her thoughts began to dull. The severed head was now all she was focusing on, and the only thing she could do was let herself fall into her beastly depravity once more. She grabbed the goat’s head, ripping out a chunk of it to bite into. Growling, she devoured the raw flesh, savoring the taste of blood. And as her feast began, she let out an agonized, feral scream.

Dorothea could hear the pounding from her room. All she could do was curl up in her bed and try to fall asleep. But sleep eluded her because of her fear. She pictured Marianne entering her room on all fours, snarling and leaping at her, tearing the flesh off her bones and devouring her. This was hell. No, this was beyond that.

Dorothea had been to hell before. She was helping Ingrid escape from a deranged suitor, and they ended up having to go through Ailell, the Valley of Torment. That was hell on earth; massive rivers of molten lava flowed between pitch black rock, plumes of smoke burning the eyes and flooding the lungs, and heat so intense that it sapped her energy in a matter of minutes. Yet, she wasn’t scared when she was there. She had Ingrid, and the professor, and all of her classmates. She had Edelgard.

The thought infected Dorothea’s mind before she could catch it. Memories of Edelgard played over and over in her head, only making her feel a greater sense of hopelessness. Edie, her precious Edie, the person who taught her what love truly feels like. The woman who swung a mighty axe at her with the intent to kill. Dorothea wondered if the emperor still thought about her the way she did.

The pounding sounds continued. Dorothea wondered how any of the servants could sleep, knowing what was going on in the attic. She wondered how  _ Marianne _ slept, considering she was up doing this all night.

Dorothea’s stomach growled. She looked over at the dinner tray still sitting by her door. Marianne had told her the effects of her poisoned food wouldn’t wear off before she’d die of starvation, but she had decided against eating regardless to test if it was the truth. And indeed, Dorothea’s attempts to use any sort of magic all ended in failure. Fire spells didn’t even create a few scattered embers, and wind spells couldn’t summon so much as a light breeze. So she gave in, getting out of bed and grabbing the tray. The food had gone cold, but it wouldn’t be replaced until morning, so it was all she had. Despite the less than desirable temperature of the meal, it still tasted quite good. It was no doubt part of Marianne’s effort to make her feel like a guest instead of a prisoner.

When morning came, Emma unlocked the cell door. Marianne was fast asleep in the center of the room, covered in the remains of the goat’s head. Emma gently picked her up and carried her to Marianne’s private bath chamber where warm water had already been prepared. She made sure to scrub every last bit of blood and hair off of her lady’s body, getting it out from under her nails and extracting clumps of dried blood from her hair, being careful not to damage it. Once the water had turned red, Emma pulled Marianne out and placed her in the room’s other tub, allowing her to finish cleaning her up in water that wasn’t contaminated.

As Emma brushed Marianne’s hair, the girl woke up, quietly groaning. “Stay still, my lady,” Emma said, placing a hand on her shoulder. She didn’t want Marianne straining herself so soon after waking up.

Marianne looked at the other tub and the red water within it. “Last night was a poor one, then.” Emma nodded. “I’m getting worse.”

“We can’t know that for sure, Lady Edmund. Perhaps you were simply hungrier than usual.”

Marianne sighed. “How is Dorothea faring?”

“I had the cooks prepare her breakfast. I’ve no idea if she’ll eat it, however. Ms. Arnault is a stubborn woman.”

“She always has been.” Marianne looked down at the water, gazing at her reflection. “I’ve made a grave error. Because of me, she’s now stuck here.”

“Lady Edmund, you know my thoughts on this matter,” Emma said, grabbing a towel. Marianne got out of the bath and allowed her attendant to dry her off. “She poses far too much of a risk, even in captivity. I must advise you to--”

“I’ll hear none of that, Emma,” Marianne interrupted. “That is an option I refuse to consider.”

“If she manages to escape, what will you do? Hesitation could spell our downfall.”

“If it does come to that, then we may discuss other options. But so long as she doesn’t try anything, I will not allow so much as a hair upon her head to be harmed. Do you understand?” It was when Marianne spoke in such an assertive voice that Emma was reminded this wasn’t the nerve-wracked young woman Margrave Edmund had adopted all those years ago.

“Yes, milady,” Emma said, curtsying. “My apologies for broaching the subject.” Once she finished drying Marianne off, she set the towel to the side. “Ah yes, I forgot to mention that her new quarters have been prepared. How would you like me to approach convincing her?”

“I’ll do it,” Marianne said, looking back at the crimson water filling the first tub.

“Is that wise, milady?”

“A familiar face may be what it takes. Even if that face is mine.”

Once Marianne had finished getting ready for the day, she headed down to Dorothea’s current guest room. After giving herself a few seconds to mentally prepare, she knocked gently on the door. “Dorothea? I’d like to discuss your current living situation. A new room has been prepared for you, if you’d like to use it.” She received no response. “May I come in?” Still nothing. She sighed. “Dorothea, if you do not say anything, I will assume it is because you’re currently waiting next to the door with the intent to attack me once I enter.”

Still, Marianne got no answer. “At least tell me that you ate your breakfast. Surely you noticed the saghert and cream accompanying your eggs. I presume it’s still a favorite meal of yours?”

“...How did you know I like that?” Dorothea asked. It didn’t sound like she was by the door, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t previously. Besides, Marianne was now worrying more about coming up with an explanation for her knowledge.

“I…” Marianne hesitated. “I simply recall that you enjoyed it when we were at the monastery.”

“Yes, well I suppose we all have our favorite meals, don’t we?” The venom in Dorothea’s voice made it clear what she was alluding to.

“Words alone can not express how sorry I am that you witnessed that, Dorothea,” Marianne tried to explain. “It was never my intention for you to discover me in such a compromising position.”

“That’s a funny way of saying you were eating a severed cow’s head, and then tried to eat me.”

“No!” Marianne shouted. “That’s not...I wasn’t…” She winced. “Please. At least allow me to show you the room. I’m sure you’ll prefer it to your current quarters.”

For a while, Dorothea was silent. Marianne began to worry that she was being ignored. Then, Dorothea spoke. “Fine. Just...don’t touch me. Please.”

“Of course,” Marianne said. She used her master key to unlock the door. Opening it, she saw Dorothea sitting on the side of her bed. Her hair was a mess, her makeup was smeared with tears, and she was noticeably tired. At least she had eaten her breakfast. “Did you not get much sleep last night?”

“It was rather hard with that constant banging coming from the attic,” Dorothea said, giving Marianne a contemptuous scowl. Still, she was too exhausted to keep the conversation up. She stood up and walked towards Marianne, who found herself backing away instinctively. It only just occurred to her how frightening Dorothea was in this condition. “Well? What are we waiting for?”

“Right,” Marianne said, recollecting herself and guiding Dorothea through the estate. The servants all glanced at them as they walked by, no doubt wary towards the stranger who knew their secret.

They went to the second floor, which made Dorothea darkly chuckle. “Wonderful. Now you’ll be even louder.” Marianne almost said something, but she bit her tongue. Anything she said in response would surely be used against her.

Marianne led Dorothea to a set of double doors and unlocked them. Pushing them open, she revealed an expansive bedroom. A bookshelf sat against one of the walls, lined from top to bottom with various entries, ranging from historical texts to fairy tales. A large vanity was present, but it was empty. Emma had suggested they remove the mirror in case Dorothea tried to use shattered glass as a weapon, but Marianne opted to keep it. Besides, Dorothea could just as easily break the large window that gave a view of the back gardens.

The four-poster bed sat opposite the window, lavishly crafted from sturdy oak. As Dorothea stepped into the room and looked around, she found herself taken aback by how nice it really was for a glorified prison cell. Marianne nervously cleared her throat. “There is a bell atop your pillow. Ring it if you need anything and a servant will come to ask you what you need. He’s been instructed to follow any orders you give, so long as they don’t interfere with my own instructions.”

“Meaning he won’t let me leave,” Dorothea muttered, approaching the window. “It’s a wonderful cage, I’ll give you that. The view is to die for.” She noted the moss that brushed the edges of the window from outside.

“I hope that you one day may no longer view this as a cage, Dorothea.” Marianne stood by the door, watching the songstress get accustomed to her new environment. “I’ve already begun working with Emma to figure out a way for you to spend time in other areas of the estate.”

“How generous.”

Marianne twiddled her thumbs. “I’ll leave you to enjoy your new room.” Truthfully, she felt like she needed to get out. There was an oppressive air surrounding Dorothea that was constantly expanding, threatening to drag Marianne into its misery. Her attitude always was rather infectious.

Dorothea heard the doors lock, just as she had expected. Still, she sighed, knowing that the hope of Marianne potentially forgetting had been dashed. She considered going to the bookshelf to see if there was anything worth perusing, but she ended up just staring out of the window. Various dogs roamed the gardens, ranging from innocent pups to massive, slobbering hunting hounds. Despite the intimidation the larger ones presented, none of them seemed to mind the servants in the slightest. Marianne did always have a way with animals.

Speaking of the devil, Dorothea could see Marianne leave the manor and enter the garden. One of the smaller dogs approached her, sitting down and panting. She lovingly scratched it behind the ears. And while Dorothea could see the love for the dog in every movement Marianne made, her mind’s eye still saw the beast that took a heavy vase to the side of the head and got back up in a matter of seconds.

Marianne turned her head and looked up at Dorothea. In response, the songstress closed the curtains, cutting off their line of sight. Marianne sighed, walking over to the gazebo where the performance had happened. Despite the recent turmoil, at least she was able to watch Dorothea sing. Gods, she was every bit as wonderful as Marianne remembered. She held a majestic beauty that went far beyond mere appearances. Every part of her was lovely, from her face to her hair to her voice. And oh, her voice was something most could only dream of hearing.

Dorothea was a songbird, and Marianne had caged her. It wasn’t right. But what else could she do? If only Dorothea could understand that - if she could just see the bigger picture, the lives at stake, then perhaps she wouldn’t look at Marianne the way she did, with scorn in her eyes and fury barely contained by the sheer exhaustion she was suffering from.

Looking at the heavy treeline that surrounded the estate, it occured to Marianne that she was in a cage of her own. To leave would be putting herself and gods know how many others at risk. But even her cage could only do so much. She was getting worse; no matter how much Emma tried to insist otherwise, it was the truth. When her condition first manifested, she wouldn’t start feeling hungry until well after dusk. Now, just watching a sunset sent pangs through her stomach. And how much longer would it be until a simple head would no longer suffice? It already terrified her enough, knowing how much she was consuming. Knowing  _ what _ she was consuming. At least at Garreg Mach, she could justify the things she did. Self-defense, or justice, or any other excuse for killing. But all she had here was her own disgusting instincts.

Sometimes, it felt like Marianne’s crest was something physical, almost an organ, that she could remove if she simply dug deep enough. She’d begin pawing at her chest, scratching her skin, desperate for any kind of release from her curse. All it would take was for her to plunge her hand into her ribcage and yank it out. But then, as blood began to drip from her scratches, she’d remember that her crest was ingrained in her far deeper than simply a singular object that could be removed. It was in her blood, her marrow, the very fluid that gave her life.

She was doing it again. She pulled her hands away, staring at the blood smeared on her fingertips. In a panic, she hurried over to the nearest fountain to wipe it off. Emma always raised such a fuss whenever she did this, and she didn’t want to make her worry more than she already was. As she gathered the last droplets of blood off her collarbone and cleaned it off in the fountain, she glanced back at the manor. And through a nearly closed curtain, she saw Dorothea staring at her. Anybody else wouldn’t have noticed, considering the distance and light. But Marianne’s crest did give her some abilities she wasn’t opposed to having.

Dorothea kept peeking past the curtain, confident that she hadn’t been noticed. Marianne must’ve just glanced her way, that was all. But what was Marianne doing, she wondered? She ran to the fountain in such a hurry. Knowing she wouldn’t be able to figure it out, she sighed and walked away from the window. The bell was still resting on her pillow. She looked down at herself, remembering that she hadn’t actually gotten a change of clothes since the other night. Part of her current dress was even ripped thanks to Marianne’s assault. Freshening up wouldn’t be a bad first thing to do, she thought to herself as she walked to her bed, grabbed the bell, and gave it a ring.

Dorothea counted the time it took for the servant to knock on her door. Twenty seconds. Impressive. “You rang, Ms. Arnault?” a boy said from the other side of the door.

“Yes,” Dorothea said, clearing her throat. “Could you prepare a bath for me? And some new clothes, as well.”

“Certainly, Ms. Arnault,” the boy said. She decided to count the seconds it took for him to return. It was considerably longer this time, taking him seven minutes and fifty-six seconds (give or take, she had lost her exact place around the five minute mark) before he knocked on her door once again. “Your bath is ready, Ms. Arnault. May I open the door?”

“Yes,” Dorothea said, staying by her bed. If Marianne was clever enough to catch on to any attempts to stand by the door for an attack, then she’d have told her servants to watch out as well. The door opened, revealing a young man with dirty blonde hair neatly swept back. He bowed.

“If you’ll follow me,” the boy said, motioning for Dorothea to leave the room. She did, deciding not to try anything just yet. It was too risky to attempt an escape with the entire estate on high alert thanks to the stunt she had pulled. She was led to a large bathhouse, easily the size of her own room. Anything that wasn’t flooded with water was instead filled with steam. She spotted a new red dress neatly folded by the door.

“So,” Dorothea said, stepping inside, “if I asked you to come in with me, would you have to comply?” The servant’s face went bright red as expected, making her giggle. “I’m kidding.”

“Oh, I...I see. Right. Well then, I’ll, erm, be waiting outside. Just let me know if you need anything.” With that, he bowed and stepped out of the room, shutting the door behind him. It didn’t lock, but she knew it was simply because he would be waiting outside the whole time.

Being able to relax in a hot bath was a luxury that Dorothea didn’t realize she needed until she sank into the water, letting out a deep sigh that expelled more relief than air. Her tense shoulders relaxed and her limbs went limp. For a while she was content to simply remain like that, letting the heat overcome her. Still, after some time she got to work on properly cleaning herself, rubbing all the makeup and dirt off of her face. She grabbed a nearby bar of soap and started scrubbing herself, feeling as if she was becoming lighter from all the dirt coming off her skin.

As Dorothea finished up with the bar of soap, the door to the baths opened. She hurriedly looked to see who was entering, covering her chest with her arms. It was Emma, who shut the door behind her and began to strip. “Hey, what are you doing!?” Dorothea exclaimed.

“These baths are communal, Ms. Arnault,” Emma said matter-of-factly, folding her clothes before entering the water. “Lady Edmund is the only one who has a private bath. If this bothers you, I suggest speaking to her about it.” She closed her eyes, silently enjoying the bath just as Dorothea had been earlier.

Still embarrassed, Dorothea hurried out of the bath. She tried not to look at Emma as she grabbed a towel and began to dry off. “Leaving so soon, Ms. Arnault?” Emma asked, her eyes still closed.

“I was already finishing up my bath before you entered,” Dorothea said. “Is that boy still waiting outside?”

Emma nodded. “Yes, Andrew is still waiting.” Dorothea took note of his name. “Before you leave, Ms. Arnault, may I have a quick word? All you need to do is listen. Whether you answer me or not is up to you.”

“Do I have a choice?” Dorothea asked back, grabbing her clothes and beginning to put them on.

“Ms. Arnault, my lady has put a considerable amount of faith in you. If it were anyone else who discovered her secret, she would not show nearly as much courtesy as you have received. It would be best for you to understand how fortunate you are.”

“Fortunate?” Dorothea chuckled bitterly. “I didn’t know you were the kind of person to tell jokes like that.”

“I’m not,” Emma said. “You truly are fortunate. Lady Edmund has much to protect. It’s more than just a legacy or her own life. She wishes to keep everyone in this estate safe. And we in turn wish to keep her safe. The estate is a sanctuary, and so long as the truth of her crest is not discovered, it will remain that way. Lady Edmund is not very fond of violence. The acts she commits every night disgust her to no end. But she will not shy away from the act if it is necessary.”

Dorothea glared at Emma, who still had her eyes closed. “What I’m saying,” Emma continued, “is that if anyone else had discovered the attic, they would not have been given an opportunity to stay here. Do you understand?” Dorothea felt a chill run up her spine as she processed what Emma was saying. “So, for the sake of everyone here, yourself especially, do not trouble Lady Edmund with something as foolish as an escape attempt. For if you do, I can not guarantee your continued safety.”

Dorothea was now dressed, but she didn’t leave immediately. What Emma said had forced her to realize just what kind of cage she had truly been put in. There were only two paths that she had right now, and they were either a life in captivity or a quick death. She really did feel like a caged bird at this point. But even singing felt wrong to this songbird. It felt like she would be rewarding Marianne.

Even as that servant boy, Andrew, led Dorothea back to her room, she felt like Emma was still right next to her, whispering in her ear about the fate that would befall her should she aim for freedom. The attendant had no love for her, and it was doubtless that without Marianne’s orders, Dorothea would be dead already. And yet, in spite of the terror that possibility gave her, she wondered if that was truly the worst option in this awful world she had become trapped in.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for the kind reviews.

Emma walked through the rough dirt path leading out from the rear end of the estate. She had just finished checking on the feeding stations for the hummingbirds, which were thankfully still well-stocked. Because she was already there, she had decided to also clean up the birdbaths and make sure there were no unforeseen problems with them. Hummingbirds were the lady’s favorite type of bird, which naturally made it Emma’s responsibility to tend to them, but birds in general always seemed to cheer Marianne up more than any other animals.

Now, it was time for one of the most important duties Emma had to complete. About a half hour’s walk away from the estate was the stables. They housed cows and goats for cheese, horses for travel, and various other farm animals. It was important to have enough to keep them from needing to acquire resources from outside the estate whenever possible. One of the servants responsible for maintaining the stables was already waiting for Emma.

“Ms. Emma,” the girl said, standing at the front gate. “It’s good to see you.”

“You as well,” Emma said, walking past the girl, who hurried after her so they could walk beside one another. “Everything is going well, I presume?”

“Yes,” the girl said. “Dorte has been a bit down, what with the lady having not visited for the past few days, but he’ll get over it. He whines a big game, but he never cares enough to seriously act out.”

“Lady Marianne has been saddened by her inability to visit, but she’s been rather busy as of late. Our new guest has created quite the upheaval.”  
The servant girl’s eyes widened. “So it’s true. Eren mentioned it when he came for the milk yesterday, but I just assumed he was weaving some tall tale to mess with us. So why’d Lady Edmund have an outsider here anyway? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“The goat wasn’t enough,” Emma said, ignoring the girl’s question. “We’ll need another cow.”

The servant sighed. “Well that’s just peachy, ain’t it? Can’t we just try two goat heads at the same time?”

“Do we have enough goats for that to be sustainable?” Emma asked back.

“Fair point. But the cows ain’t faring too well either. It scares the hell outta them every time we take one to the chopping block. Even though it’s outta sight, they still know something bad’s happening. Any luck with finding a hunter or two?”

Emma shook her head. Nobody in the estate was a hunter. After all, meat wasn’t supposed to be eaten there in the first place. But ever since Marianne’s condition began, they had to come up with something for her. For some reason, she was so picky at night; a head was the only thing that kept her calm enough to not seriously hurt herself trying to escape. She’d just ignore any other part of the animal, which created quite the efficiency problem.

Emma had suggested using the carcasses to make tools and materials, something which Marianne objected to at first, wanting the bodies to receive at least a little respect. But after it became clear that burying each one would be a logistical nightmare, she relented. But while they could at least make use of the rest of the animal, they still had no real way of sustaining this system long-term. Emma had put out a few tendrils, trying to find a hunter they could hire discreetly, but nobody adequate for the position had caught her attention yet. After all, the standards were extraordinarily high. So until that problem was solved, livestock was the only option.

“Well, I’m sure someone’ll pop up,” the girl said as they approached the cows. “Hey, maybe you should ask our new guest if she’s got experience.” Emma rolled her eyes. “What? She not the type?”

“Not even close to the type.”

“Well looks can be deceiving. I mean, I’m a sophisticated lookin’ gal, ain’t I?” The girl elbowed Emma gently, managing to get a hint of a smile out of her. “Hey, the ice queen cracks a smile! Thank ya kindly; I got fifteen coins hedged on the possibility.”

“What would you even spend it on?” Emma asked, humoring the girl. After all, everyone but Emma was forbidden from leaving the estate without express permission from Marianne.

“More bets, of course!” The girl burst into laughter. Then Emma stopped, and the girl’s laughing died down, replaced with a grim expression. “This one, then?”

Emma nodded, staring at the cow in front of her. “We’ll need a big one. Hopefully that will make up for last night.”

The girl sighed. “Right, right. I ain’t gonna protest. Just make it quick, alright? She’s been a goodun.” She walked up to the cow and rubbed the animal’s chin. “Poor gal…”

“It will be quick and clean,” Emma assured, opening the gate. The girl helped her lead the cow out. “The last thing I would want for Lady Edmund is the burden of knowing the creature suffered.” The servant girl didn’t quite believe Emma, but she didn’t protest. After all, Emma could always choose to lie to Marianne about the speed of the death. She played the ice queen well, but there was a softie somewhere down there. Or at least, the girl liked to believe that.

“Get a sack ready,” Emma said, walking off with the cow. The girl nodded, hurrying back into the stable where the cows were housed. By the time she found it and followed the trail Emma had left, the deed had been done. The cow was on its side and in two pieces. Just like she had promised, it’d been a clean cut. Wind magic was a scary thing. The girl tried not to gag as she forced the head into the sack and tied it closed. “Should I tell Mikey to prep for skinning?” She assumed the leather would fetch a decent price when Emma sold it.

Emma shook her head, surprising the girl. “I’ll bury this one,” she said. After a moment’s hesitation, the girl nodded and headed back to the manor with the bag slung over her shoulders.

Dorothea had considered celebrating in some way. After all, it had officially been a week since she’d been locked up in this place. But ultimately, nothing really felt suitable as a way to commemorate the seven days. Of course, the whole idea was a sardonic one, so she wasn’t too broken up about it. Instead, she resigned herself to reading one of the romance novels on her bookshelf.

Dorothea didn’t consider herself a writer, but she’d spent enough time reading through scripts to know a good story from a bad one, and this novel was firmly in the second camp. It was as thick as her arm thanks to pages filled to the brim with purple prose and an ungodly amount of similes. “Oh, Evelyn,” one page read, “how you doth shine in the majestic beauty of the sunlight, as if you were a flower in full bloom. And then, of course, I am the humble bee, pollinating your beautiful petals, too in awe to focus on anything else.”

The mention of bees brought back memories of Ferdinand. Dorothea had called him that, and made sure to endlessly torment him by refusing to explain why. He was certainly one of the more tolerable nobles she had met - all of the Black Eagles besides herself were nobles, and she got along well enough with them - but he could be so utterly infuriating sometimes. He discussed protecting the common folk as if it were akin to taking care of a bunch of pets, always talking down at them. Even Dorothea was not immune to receiving this sort of speech, though she was quick to chastise Ferdinand whenever that happened.

Dorothea’s time in the Black Eagles had gone a long way to change her perception of the nobility. Up till then, she saw them all as shallow, idiotic cretins, who favored vanity above all else. But Ferdinand, beyond all of his meanderings, did care about others, in his own strange way. Linhardt talked a big game about how little he cared, but he always healed others with delicate care, not leaving so much as a scar by the time he was finished. Caspar was...well, Caspar, always looking forward to the next big fight, but when he did stop to smell the roses, he could be shockingly thoughtful. Bernadetta was a chronic recluse, but with enough patience, Dorothea managed to break through her shell and get to know the creative soul that laid within. Petra was too adorable not to love, with her honest enthusiasm towards learning new things and her signature broken accent. Hubert was a tough cookie to crack, but it was clear his support for Edelgard was as genuine as it could be.

Ah, Edelgard. Nothing about that woman made sense. Dorothea had fallen head over heels for her, but after Garreg Mach fell, she began to wonder just how much of the woman she loved was even real. Was the real Edelgard the one who would brush strands of hair out of her face constantly as she studied, never able to properly keep it back? Or was the real Edelgard the one who ordered her men to kill any classmates that tried to interfere with her plans?

That girl was unreadable. A complete enigma. And for Dorothea, who had been so accustomed to reading nobility like open books, it was exhilarating to meet a woman like that. She was so desperate to know anything real about Edelgard, no matter how trivial. Before the Holy Mausoleum, before Edelgard’s plan came to light, Dorothea thought she was finally beginning to understand her.

Who was Edelgard? She wore two different faces, and neither seemed more legitimate than the other. There was the girl with big dreams who studied hard and fought even harder, trusting her allies but never leaning on them, with the occasional angered outburst (usually aimed towards Claude) that briefly revealed her vulnerability. But there was also the woman who despised her enemies enough to go to war with the world, to betray everything and everyone, to command with brutal efficiency, to destroy as many lives as it would take to accomplish her goal.

Or maybe Edelgard was neither of those faces in full. How much of each version of herself was real? Dorothea still couldn’t fathom her. It terrified her, knowing she’d never be able to understand Edelgard. But that fascination lingered, and ever since that night at the ball when they shared a brief kiss, her fascination was laced with attraction.

Dorothea wondered if she was simply destined to be around toxic people. Perhaps she was the one responsible for them being around her. She did more than a few regretful things to stay in the spotlight. She saw the kind of nightmare that a life around nobility was. She _lived_ it. All she had was her charm and her smarts. If she couldn’t keep someone hanging on her every word, if she couldn’t understand what they wanted and give it to them, she would be doomed to live in poverty once again.

Time and money had helped remove many of the scars Dorothea had received during her life on the streets. Access to nobility meant access to the kind of healing magic and medicine only wealth could provide, and no proper songstress could dare go on stage with the evidence of a stabbing on her cheek, or rat bites on her fingers. But some of her scars were too stubborn to go away. They tended to be the ones associated with some of the worst moments of her childhood.

One of them was a jagged, dark line across the base of her skull that she would use her long hair to hide. She hadn’t eaten for days, and in her desperation, she tried to steal a meal off some man’s table outside a cafe. She got away with the food, but before she could get too many bites in, the guards caught up with her. They didn’t even care about getting the food back. It was tainted by then, ruined by the touch of a street rat. But they were more than happy to give her a few kicks so she’d learn her lesson. One of those blows made her hit her head on a stone wall, hard. She reflexively vomited, which made the guards finally leave out of disgust. It was a silver lining to a head injury that left her vision blurry for weeks. Beyond attempting to make the scar less clear, she had never wanted anybody to take a proper look at the injury. She didn’t want to find out what a blow to the head that strong at an age as young as that could’ve done to her.

Dorothea was so absorbed in thought that when someone knocked on her door, she nearly screamed. Thankfully she was able to hold the outburst back, instead only letting out a stifled squeak. Still, her nerves were left thoroughly rattled. “Dorothea?” Marianne called out from the other side of the door. “Is it alright if I enter?”

“No!” Dorothea shouted without thinking. “I mean...y-yes, of course, just...give me a second.” She took a much needed moment to collect herself. “Alright, come in.”

The lock clicked and Marianne stepped in. “Hello. How are you faring?”

Dorothea frowned. “Is there a reason you’re here?”

Marianne, not having expected the niceties to be so suddenly skipped, cleared her throat. “Y-yes. I was wondering if you’d like to join me in the gardens. I thought you could use the fresh air.”

“Well, you’re not wrong. After all, I have been unable to go outside for a week now.” Dorothea put a hand on her hip, staring Marianne down. The blue-haired girl didn’t take the intimidation well.

“Yes, I see…” is all Marianne is able to offer up as consolation. “Still, my offer stands, if you wish to take it.”

Dorothea sighed. “Why not? It’ll be good to stretch my legs.” And so, with a pleased nod from Marianne, the two of them headed to the back gardens of the estate. Andrew, the servant assigned to Dorothea, accompanied them, but he kept his distance at Marianne’s request.

As they entered the gardens, one of the various cats approached Dorothea and began rubbing itself against her leg. It reminded her of when this happened when she first arrived. She reached down to pet it, but it quickly evaded her. She frowned at that, having expected the cat to at least stick around if it wanted attention.

“You have to let it sniff you,” Marianne said. When Dorothea looked up at her, she blushed softly, looking away. “If you let him get familiar with your scent, he may let you touch him. That’s why he’s rubbing against your leg. He’s getting his scent on you.”

“Oh,” Dorothea said, looking back down at the cat, who was cautiously approaching her once again. She wasn’t familiar with the details of animal interaction, so this was the first she had heard of something like this. She held her hand out in front of the cat, who leaned closer and gave it a curious sniff. Then, he rubbed the side of his face against her palm, purring. “He likes you,” Marianne said, smiling.

“I guess he does,” Dorothea remarked, scratching the cat behind the ears, an act which he very clearly enjoyed. “Where did all these animals come from, anyways?”

“During the Battle of Garreg Mach, I...well, I ended up not participating in much of the fighting.” Marianne was obviously quite ashamed of that fact. “So I spent the battle rounding up as many of the dogs and cats as I could, so they could stay safe. After the dust settled, they didn’t have a home anymore, so I brought them home with me.”

“All of these animals?” Dorothea looked around. “How did you even manage something like that?”

“I hired some local mercenaries to help me transport them,” Marianne explained. “It was scary, traveling with people I didn’t know, but they all turned out to be really nice. A couple of them even decided to work for the estate.”

“Don’t tell me Emma is one of them,” Dorothea said, exasperated.

Marianne giggled. “No, no. She’s been in service to the Edmund family since before I was adopted. When I was taken in, she was assigned as my personal attendant.”

“I suppose that makes more sense…” Dorothea chuckled lightly, a bit embarrassed. “I can tell she cares for you immensely.” After all, Emma had threatened to kill her if she didn’t cooperate. It took a strong bond for one to be willing to kill for another’s sake. She just wished that she wasn’t the one the target had been painted on.

As Dorothea looked around, she realized that there weren’t as many servants out as usual. One was near the edge of the property, trimming a hedge, while another was situated on a ladder and giving part of the walls a fresh coat of white paint. She wondered if Marianne had planned this in order to provide a more comfortable atmosphere. It helped, but Dorothea doubted she’d ever be truly comfortable around this woman, knowing what she did.

Marianne mumbled something which Dorothea could barely understand. “What?” she said.

“Oh,” Marianne cleared her throat. “I, um, liked your singing. I never got the chance to tell you.”

“Well, I already assumed as much,” Dorothea said. “After all, you donated quite a lot of money to me. And you were willing to give me a steady stream of income for just one private performance.”

“Right,” Marianne said, embarrassed that she had said something so obvious in hindsight. “Still, I...I wanted to tell you, anyway. Your singing was lovely.”

“Yeah, well,” Dorothea said, looking off towards the forest, “don’t expect an encore. Ever.”

“...Right.” Marianne didn’t sound surprised in the slightest. But she certainly sounded disappointed. Devastated, even. The way she spoke in that soft, fragile way, her puppy dog eyes, they made it hard for Dorothea not to sympathise. But she held firm. “Did you--”

A scream echoed out, followed by a large crash. Both girls looked over to the source and ran over without a word. They found themselves at the side of the manor, staring down in shock at the servant who had been painting. The ladder had fallen, and him with it. White paint coated a shrub, but a much larger coat of red was mixing into the grass below the man. His leg was mangled, with a snapped bone jutting out of his flesh. Dorothea could feel the stomach acid surge to her throat, forcing her to duck to the side so she could vomit.

Even though Dorothea was now staring at the ground where brown chunks of eggs now sat in a sloppy pile, she could still smell the intense metallic haze that accompanied blood. And it made her vomit again, expelling considerably less. “Get--” She stopped, gagging. “Get help, Marian--” She fell to her knees as she felt as if her stomach was trying to heave itself out of her throat. The man was groaning loudly, his own breathing panicked, and the blood, oh gods, it invaded her nostrils, feeling to her as if it had become more prevalent than the air.

Dorothea was vaguely aware of Marianne running off, but only in the sense that she heard her footsteps. But her mind was stuck on the blood, the stench, the way it reminded her of the battles she had been in. She vividly recalled watching rebels being skewered by imperial troops as the village they were in was razed to the ground.

Dorothea was snapped out of her thoughts by Emma, who grabbed her wrist and yanked her up to her feet. She grabbed her shoulders and roughly shook her. “Where is Lady Edmund!?”

“What…?” Dorothea said, still a bit dazed. “I...I told her to go get help. Isn’t that why you’re here?” Behind Emma, two servants started tending to the man’s wounds. She could only momentarily look there before she had to return her focus to the attendant.

“Andrew informed us of the situation,” Emma said, reminding Dorothea of the boy’s presence. Upon realizing that Dorothea truly didn’t know where Marianne had gone, she let go of her, cursing under her breath. “Andrew will escort you back to your room.” The boy walked up to Dorothea and gently set a hand on her shoulder.

“Come on, Ms. Arnault,” Andrew said, guiding the confused girl back inside. “It would be best for you to lie down.” As they left the scene, Dorothea could still hear the injured man crying out in pain. It wasn’t until they arrived at her room that she realized she had been leaning heavily against him the whole time. She apologized, standing up straight. “No need to worry, ma’am,” Andrew said as he unlocked the doors.

Dorothea stepped inside, starting to get a better grip on reality once again. The memories were fading away. But she could still taste stomach acid in her mouth. She turned around to face Andrew. “Could you get me something to drink?”

“Of course. Any preferences?”

“Something with a lot of flavor,” Dorothea said. The servant nodded, bowed, and shut the door, locking it. She rubbed her forehead, trying to get rid of a headache that had begun to grow in intensity.

Marianne stumbled through the woods, her heart pounding and her vision blurry. Where was she even going? Her mind had no idea, but her instincts were leading her somewhere. No, they weren’t her instincts. They were the instincts of the other her, the one who delighted in eating raw flesh.

This was wrong. It was still midday. Not even a hint of a sunset’s orange hue was visible in the sky, and yet she was growing hungry. Just the sight of her servant with his leg split open like that, revealing all of the blood and muscles and bone, made her hungry enough to nearly collapse. It felt like she hadn’t eaten in days - weeks, even.

At this point, Marianne’s body was no longer controlled by her. She was too busy fighting to stay lucid, to hold back the part of her that wanted to devour. At some point, she had gotten on all fours. When had she done that? Trying to remember made her head hurt. Then, as she began to lose any semblance of control over herself, she realized where she was going. And even in her beastly form, even with not a shred of her body still responding to her, she managed to let out an agonized scream.

Emma heard the scream. She ran towards it along with a handful of other servants. All she could think about was Lady Edmund, how she needed to be protected, contained, stopped, saved, everything that needed to happen to stop the worst from happening.

By the time they made it to the stables, they could smell blood. Emma ordered the other servants to secure the perimeter, to report to her if there was any sign of Lady Edmund. Meanwhile, she ran towards the source of the smell.

Emma pushed open the double doors leading into the horse stable, stepping inside, ready to see a massacre. But that was not what she discovered. Down both sides, the horses were fine, albeit scared out of their wits. But at the end of the hall, growling could be heard. Her heart sank as she realized what was happening. “No,” she whispered, sprinting.

She was too late. The thought repeated over and over in her mind as she stared down at her lady. Not all of the horses were fine. Marianne had headed straight for one of them, ignoring any other potential victims. All Emma could do in that moment was stare in abject terror.

Marianne was on the ground, gnawing at Dorte’s leg. The horse laid still, its chest torn open by her inhuman strength. Tissue and muscle gave in under the pressure of her bite, allowing her to easily hit bone, which also began to crack. She breathed heavily, letting out guttural moans and grunts as she continued to feast. And as Emma stared at the tragedy laid out in front of her, she realized that even as Marianne was shattering bone and eating flesh, she was weeping. Her tears mixed with the blood splattered on her face as she kept eating, unable to stop herself.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a bit of an intermediary chapter, so it's not as long as usual.

“Is this really necessary?” Edelgard asked, frowning.

“Of course it is!” Dorothea said, holding one hand and placing the other on the princess’s shoulder. “I’ve got to get my dancing practice done today, and you’re the only one with free time.” They were in one of the monastery’s gardens, which was thankfully only occupied by themselves for the time being.

“I was actually in the middle of something…” Edelgard grumbled.

“Well, if you can’t be bothered to tell me what it is, then it’s clearly not that important.” The two swayed back and forth, reciting general ballroom dance maneuvers. Edelgard was rigid, following the movements to the letter, while Dorothea flowed gracefully, adding flourishes and improvising along the way.

“If I remember correctly, the White Heron Cup is a solo performance,” Edelgard said. “So why do you need me to help you practice?”

“Because...hm, you got me there.” Dorothea giggled. “If I say it’s to get you out of your room for once, would you accept that?”

“I’ve been in plenty of other places aside from my room, Dorothea.”

“Not today, you haven’t.”

“You’ve checked often enough to know that?” Edelgard’s question was like a needle passing right past Dorothea’s eye and into her skull. Had her words really made her that obvious? And so what if she had been passing by Edelgard’s room often? There was no reason to assume it was on purpose. Even thought it was.

“I’ve been out and about today,” Dorothea said. “And I haven’t spotted you anywhere but your room. Did Hubert have to bring you your meals?”

“I was perfectly capable of fetching them myself,” Edelgard grumbled. “He simply brought them to me before I was hungry enough to leave.”

“That doesn’t sound like Hubie,” Dorothea pointed out, trying to find some way to gain an advantage in what was quickly becoming a thinly-veiled mind game. “He can practically read your mind. I’ve seen him do things for you all the time, exactly when you want them done, without you having even mentioned them.”

“And how do you know I’m not simply being polite when I commend him? Perhaps I lie about my satisfaction to make him feel better.” Their eyes were locked on one another’s, even as the dance’s pace slightly increased.

“Edie, you’re not the type to lie about little things like that. Big things, sure. But making someone feel better? That’s simply not you at all.”

“Who’s to say?” Edelgard mused, spinning Dorothea. “You often talk about how hard I am to read. Maybe the girl you’ve gotten to know is just a false persona.”

“I sure hope not,” Dorothea said, grinning. “Because I happen to like being around this persona.”

Dorothea remembered that day like she would an embarrassing childhood mistake. It was always accompanied by an intense and bashful sense of regret. It stung of inevitable irony. In other, simpler terms, it hurt. So many memories of Edelgard hurt. But in spite of this pain, Dorothea kept remembering, and she kept letting those memories play out. She sometimes wondered if she had grown to fetishize her own sadness.

After all, if Dorothea truly wanted to escape such awful memories, she wouldn’t keep looking out her bedroom window and staring at the shrub that had been drenched in white paint. It had been a week since the incident occured, and in that entire time she hadn’t heard a peep from Marianne. Whenever she tried to ask Andrew about it, he would just tell her that Marianne was busy. She knew it was a lie, but for that week, she decided to leave it be. What was more annoying than the blatant lie was that she had been unable to leave her room for that entire week. After enjoying the gardens, the outdoors, that wonderful illusion of freedom, it was much harder to accept being trapped in one room.

Dorothea rang her bell, summoning Andrew. “Yes, Ms. Arnault?” the boy asked as he stepped into her room, waiting attentively.

“I was wondering…” Dorothea frowned, biting her lip. “That man, the one who broke his leg...how is he doing?”

“He’s doing quite well, Ms. Arnault. Set to make a full recovery.” Andrew smiled cheerily.

“Did Marianne order you to say that?” Dorothea asked. “Or was Emma the one who wanted you to lie to me?” Andrew’s smile faded as he realized he had been found out. “Please, I just want to know what happened to him.”

Andrew sighed. “If Emma finds out, she’ll kill me...fine. But just promise me you won’t say a word about this. Pretend you don’t know until someone else lets you. Okay?”

“Of course,” Dorothea said. “It’s the least I can do after you’ve done so much for me.”

That seemed to make Andrew feel better. “Well, he was doing okay. He seemed to be slowly recovering, though we doubted he’d ever be able to use his leg again. But then, two days ago, he fell ill. His leg had been infected. Emma and the estate’s healers were discussing whether to treat the wound or amputate it, but before they could come to a consensus, he passed away.”

“I see.” The knowledge made Dorothea’s heart feel heavy. All she could do was fall down and vomit. Useless. Why was she so useless? She stopped, realizing the path her thoughts were going down. She reasoned that she wouldn’t have gotten help any sooner than Andrew had. Something else caught her attention, helping take her mind off her own self-loathing. “Was Marianne not part of the decision?”

Andrew nodded. “Apparently, she’s been in a poor state since the accident occured. Emma hasn’t allowed anyone to see Lady Edmund but herself and one of the healers.”

“Right,” Dorothea said with a nod. “It must be hard on her. You all seem so close with one another.”

“Indeed,” Andrew said. “The man who died was a friend of mine. I’m relatively new to the estate - it’s been about three years since I first started working here - and he was the one in charge of showing me the ropes. Though, the help he gave never amounted to more than simple instructions and whining when I didn’t do something right. He was a lazy bastard, but…”

“But you still miss him, huh?” Dorothea said softly. Andrew nodded. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Andrew said. “Besides, if anyone has reason to be upset, it’s Sadie. He had piled up quite the debt by gambling with her.” He chuckled, attempting to lighten the mood.

“Sadie? Who’s that?” Dorothea asked, tilting her head.

“Ah, Sadie is one of the cooks. She’s been the one making most of your meals, in fact.”

“Really, now? Pass along a thank you from me, would you?” Dorothea smiled. “Those eggs I get every morning are divine.”

“She’ll be glad to hear it,” Andrew said, smiling. “Is there anything else you needed?”

“No, that’ll be all. Thank you again, Andrew.”

“Of course, Ms. Arnault.” Andrew bowed before leaving the room. However, the click of the door’s lock punctuated their otherwise kind conversation, reminding Dorothea that she was still a prisoner. She walked over to her window and looked down at the garden once again, spotting Emma sitting at the gazebo and reading some sort of paper. She couldn’t tell what it was, but she saw the scowl on Emma’s face.

Emma glanced up and stared right at Dorothea, who hurriedly closed her curtains. The girl was still afraid of her, something which Emma couldn’t blame her for. Still, she wouldn’t let her sympathy cloud her judgement towards the songstress. Especially not now.

It seemed as if a storm of poor luck had descended upon the estate, and Lady Edmund in particular. It only fueled the poor girl’s belief of her supernatural bad luck, and Emma knew better than to try and convince her otherwise. That was one subject that her mind was firmly made up on. Telling her about the letter would be bound to make her feel even more miserable.

Marianne had continued to devour Dorte for the rest of the day and well into the night, only returning to her right mind once the moon began to sink into the horizon. By then, there wasn’t much left of the horse. Emma could have wondered the logistics of such a small girl consuming such a large animal, but crests were a subject she didn’t dare try and parse. She only knew as much as was necessary to aid her lady.

At the very least, Dorte’s size meant Marianne didn’t bother attacking any of the other horses. Emma had personally kept watch the entire time, forcing herself to observe Marianne slowly eat him. The girl never stopped crying. Even now, Emma could vividly recall the sounds of raw flesh being consumed. Not many things got to her, but that made her feel somewhat ill.

The biggest headache was covering the whole thing up. If the staff found out Lady Edmund had lost control in broad daylight, it would create a panic. As such, she made sure only her most trusted associates knew. Burying Dorte would leave evidence, so they used fire magic to burn the remains to ash.

As for explanations for Dorte’s sudden disappearance, Emma already had a plan figured out. As the story would go, a bunch of foxes snuck into the stables in the dead of night, spooking the horses. Dorte managed to break out of his stall and run off into the forest, never to be seen again. She had authorized search parties, knowing there would be nothing to find. After a while, it would be assumed that Dorte had fallen victim to predators.

Everything was going to work out. Lady Edmund would recover. She had to. Otherwise, she would be unable to do what was needed for this letter. She folded it closed and stood up. Lady Edmund would need to be her best state of mind before learning of this news. And with the situation at hand, the opportunity was too ripe to wait.

Emma gathered together the people she trusted the most in the attic - those responsible for the overall functions of the estate. She explained her plan, and, as she expected, they reacted poorly. It was horrific, they said. It was disgraceful. Lady Edmund would never approve. She told them that Marianne was not in the proper condition to give her approval. She had only just started to be able to feed herself without another’s help, and she had barely spoken a word. She was, in all accounts, broken. It would be too long before she could recover, and they didn’t have that time on their hands.

“We have visitors,” Emma said, setting the note down on a table for them to read. “If Lady Edmund is not in top condition when they arrive, you know what will happen.”

“We don’t even know if this will work,” one of Emma’s confidants argued. “Just because she happened to recover last time--”

“The mere fact that she recovered,” Emma said, “is proof enough that it works.”

“Margrave Edmund would be rolling in his grave,” one of them said bitterly.

“Margrave Edmund would want what is best for his daughter,” Emma corrected. “What she doesn’t know will not hurt her.”

“If she finds out, there will be hell to pay,” one of them said, rubbing his temples.

“As far as she’ll know,” Emma said, “she’ll have gone through a fortunately quick recovery. I would not propose this without certainty that it is the best...no, the _only_ course of action.”

And with that, Emma convinced them to help carry out her plan. They kept the other servants away from the second floor, explaining there were concerns of an infestation of rats. They dug up the still rotting body of the unfortunate soul who had passed in that grisly accident and got him inside the attic without anyone noticing. They set him in the containment room. Emma brought Marianne a glass of water, spiked with a little something that would help her sleep. Then, they brought her into the attic and set her in the containment room.

That night, the pounding from the attic was louder than usual. But it also ended before the sun rose. While Marianne was asleep with gore now covering her face, Emma took the bones of the man out and tossed the bones of a previous night’s animal in.

When Marianne woke up in the morning, Emma explained that she had fallen asleep due to exhaustion, and they had set her in the attic while she was still unconscious. With the animal bones in the attic, Marianne had no problem believing the lie.

Dorothea was in the midst of the final chapters of her cheesy romance novel when someone knocked on her door. “Yes?” she called out, looking up from her book.

“May I enter?” Marianne asked.

“Oh!” Dorothea said, surprised. “Yes, of course. Come in.”

Marianne stepped inside, and what Dorothea immediately noticed was the healthy glow in her face. “Hello. How have you been?” Marianne asked, smiling softly.

“Erm…” Dorothea blinked, confused by Marianne’s sudden brightness. “I’ve been well, all things considered.”

“Yes, yes,” Marianne said, nodding. “That business with my servant was...well, it was ghastly. I’m so, so sorry that you had to witness that.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Dorothea said. “After all, nobody could have predicted that happening. It was an accident, nothing more.”

“Regardless, I apologise.” Marianne bowed. “I must also apologise for ceasing contact so suddenly. There was another incident in the stables, and it...well, it affected me rather greatly.”

“What happened?” Dorothea set her book to the side, forgetting to mark her page. “Did you hurt yourself?”

“No, nothing like that.” Marianne paused, sighing. “I suppose it wouldn’t mean much to you, but there was a horse back at Garreg Mach. His name was Dorte. I often spent time around the stables there, and I quickly grew rather fond of him. When the monastery fell, he was the only animal that wasn’t a dog or a cat that I managed to rescue. However, soon after the accident in the gardens, Dorte passed away.”

“Oh gods…” Dorothea gulped. “I’m so sorry, Marianne.”

“As you said about the incident in the gardens, it was an accident. Nothing more.” Marianne definitely was sad, but Dorothea didn’t see anything resembling the grief she would expect from someone as emotionally vulnerable as Marianne.

“Right…” Dorothea found herself growing uncomfortable around Marianne. But what bothered her more was that she couldn’t pinpoint the source of her discomfort.

“Would you like to visit the kitchen with me?” Marianne asked, smiling once again. “I was planning on helping with dinner preparations, and I thought you might enjoy helping.”

“Oh, I…” Dorothea didn’t want to go. Something in the back of her mind screamed at her not to go. “Well, I’m nearly finished with this book, and I just can’t seem to put the thing down!” She laughed, hoping it didn’t give away how nervous she was. “I don’t wanna ruin the pace I’ve got going.”

“I see.” Marianne was clearly disappointed. “Well, that’s alright. I hope you enjoy the novel.” With that, she left the room without any hesitation. Dorothea stared at the door, bewildered. She knew how to read people. Maybe not everyone, not people like Edelgard, but certainly people like Marianne. And that girl was not the Marianne she knew of. She seemed brimming with the confidence that she so notably lacked in all other times Dorothea had seen her. It made no sense, especially since Marianne had been dealing with the death of not just a servant, but her favorite horse. People didn’t just move on like that.

No, Dorothea realized, there were people who did seemingly move on from tragedy without so much as a glance back. People like Edelgard. That was the reason she was so uncomfortable around Marianne. She reminded her too much of Edelgard. Something was wrong.

Marianne returned to her bedchambers, having some time before she was supposed to help in the kitchen. Besides, she needed to go over the note Emma gave her again. Sitting down at her bedside, she picked the note up and read through it again, trying to spot any double meanings hidden in the seemingly unassuming message. It was a tricky situation, but she knew that she needed to stay calm and collected. If she showed weakness, it would be the death of them all. She couldn’t afford to let that happen.

_Dear Lady Marianne von Edmund,_

_I hope you are in good health. I have not heard about your status for some time, which naturally makes me worry. Though you have formally rescinded your claim to nobility, you still are a woman of much importance. And of course, it would be remiss of me to ignore a former classmate._

_As such, and because of current business already having me in the region, I will be paying your estate a visit on the twenty-second of this moon. I understand that this may seem abrupt, but know that I do not expect anything typical of a meeting between nobility. Instead, I consider this a reunion between classmates, and even friends, if you consider me such. I certainly do see you that way. I look forward to meeting you, and I sincerely hope that you feel the same._

_Signed,_

_Edelgard von Hresvelg, Adrestian Emperor_


	5. Chapter 5

Dorothea was unable to sleep. After all, it wasn’t every day that one’s teacher turned out to be blessed by the capital G Goddess. They were supposed to go to the Holy Mausoleum in the morning and witness Byleth receive a divine proclamation, and that was a lot more than Dorothea was equipped to handle. Apparently, she and her classmates had to come along because when Serios got her revelation, she had ordained heroes of some sort with her. Dorothea didn’t feel very comfortable with being given that label.

So with her thoughts preventing her from finding any rest, Dorothea lit a lantern and worked on some miscellaneous homework, assuming that a divine intervention wasn’t going to change any due dates. It was on Fódlan’s wildlife, a course she assumed would be an easy A but instead turned out to be downright brutal. She muttered the words she was reading in an attempt to get them better memorized. “For the Adrestian Gray Wolf is most fearsome when starved, as it will conserve energy for a last-ditch attempt to kill the first living creature it sees…”

Someone knocked on Dorothea’s door, making her jump, cursing under her breath. One of the knights must have seen her light on and came over to investigate. She was up past curfew, after all. She stood up, straightened out her nightgown, and walked up to the door.

Edelgard stood in front of Dorothea, still wearing her daily uniform. “Edie…?” Dorothea said, blinking in surprise. “What are you doing up?” She expected to hear Edelgard say something like, “I could ask you the same thing,” or, “I couldn’t sleep with your light on, do you know how late it is? It’s an important day tomorrow,” and blah blah blah.

“Couldn’t sleep,” Edelgard said, her voice gentle and crackly. The simplicity and honesty of the answer surprised Dorothea further.

“I can tell,” Dorothea said, looking Edelgard over from top to bottom. “You didn’t even get out of your uniform. What have you been doing?”

“Working,” Edelgard said. Dorothea could see upon closer inspection that there were heavy bags under Edelgard’s eyes. She looked utterly exhausted.

“Is there a reason in particular why you stopped your important work to talk to little ol’ me?” Dorothea asked, putting on her usual flirty persona in an effort to break the ice.

“We kissed, the night of the ball,” Edelgard said bluntly. “Do you recall that?”

“Oh. I, um...well, it’d be a little hard to forget.” Dorothea felt a blush creeping onto her face. “I assumed you were drunk.”

“I was completely sober,” Edelgard said. She stepped forward, closing the gap between her and Dorothea. “And I’m sober now.”

“Edie, if this is your attempt to come on to me, you’re doing a poor--” Dorothea’s joking response was interrupted by Edelgard swiftly planting a kiss on her lips. Her eyes widened, but as she tried to react properly to the situation, Edelgard just kept going. She gently pushed Dorothea back, shutting the door behind them, all while holding the kiss.

The rest was a blur of motion and emotion. Trying to remember any specific moment was impossible, but Dorothea could recall feelings and sensations. Shock upon witnessing the multiple large, deep scars that Edelgard had hidden under her clothing. Smug superiority when she confirmed that Edelgard was nowhere near as experienced as she was. An exhilarated fear when that didn’t stop the princess from taking control anyways.

What Dorothea did remember clearly was the morning after. She remembered waking up and seeing Edelgard already out of bed, in the middle of getting redressed. She got up and hugged the girl from behind, surprising her. “C’mon Edie, don’t tell me you were planning on leaving me alone?” she asked teasingly.

“I still have much to do,” Edelgard said, grabbing Dorothea’s hands and gently pushing them away so she could continue getting dressed.

“Like what? All we have to do today is stand around in a creepy tomb and wait for the goddess to tell the professor to ‘follow her will’ or something horrifically vague like that. You know, typical religious stuff.”

“I wish that was all I had to do,” Edelgard lamented, finishing dressing herself and fixing her hair as best she could.

“Fine. I suppose I’ll have to wait until next time, then.” Dorothea didn’t miss Edelgard’s reaction to that. It was a small, almost missed, flinch. A telltale sign she had seen from so many others after a one night stand. It shocked her to be able to read Edelgard so well. “Ah. I see.” She sighed, disappointed. “There is no next time. Why am I not surprised?”

“Dorothea, it’s not like that,” Edelgard said, turning around, only to see Dorothea’s infuriated expression.

“Then what is it, Edie?” Dorothea asked, no longer being polite about the subject. “You always have excuses for this sort of thing. You’re busy, or things are too complicated, or it isn’t the right time. Over and over again you get close to me, and then when I try to reciprocate, you run away. Do you think you’re the only one allowed to initiate anything in this relationship?”

“Relationship? Dorothea, I think you received the wrong impression. I merely--”

Dorothea cut Edelgard off. “Don’t give me that. Don’t pretend this was just you blowing off steam on some pretty girl. You’re a nightmare to read, but goddess knows I’ve figured you out enough to know you aren’t that kind of person. If I were talking to any other vapid, horny noble, I’d buy that excuse. But I’m talking to you.” The room was quiet. Dorothea crossed her arms, tapping her foot on the floor. “Say something.”

Edelgard looked away. “I’ll tell you. Someday. I swear.”

“And what am I supposed to do until then?”

“I don’t know,” Edelgard admitted. “But when I do tell you...will you still stay with me?”

Dorothea sighed. “I can’t answer that, Edie. You know I can’t.” Edelgard nodded, having expected that sort of answer. She headed to the door. “Hey,” Dorothea said, stopping her once more. “It was really nice, getting to see you like that.”

“Naked?” Edelgard asked with a tinge of morbid humor.

Dorothea smiled and shook her head. “Vulnerable.”

The memory of that fateful day was rudely interrupted as Dorothea felt a sharp pain on the tip of her index finger. “Oh,” Marianne said, noticing it. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, I’m fine,” Dorothea assured, setting down her kitchen knife. “I was just a bit too careless.” Marianne gently took hold of her hand and brought it close to her face to inspect it.

“It doesn’t look too bad. Thank goodness…” Marianne quite suddenly pressed Dorothea’s injured finger against her lips and started sucking on it, getting the blood off. Dorothea’s face went bright red, but Marianne didn’t seem to notice.

“Marianne?” Dorothea said, getting the girl’s attention. “You don’t need to do that.”

“Oh!” Marianne let go of Dorothea’s hand. “I’m sorry. I was just, erm, doing what people usually do with little cuts like that. You know.”

“Usually, people suck their own little cuts,” Dorothea reminded.

“Right, right.” Marianne looked down at the kitchen table and the onion she was halfway through cutting. “I’m sorry. That must’ve seemed rather suspect of me.” Dorothea wasn’t sure how to respond to that. It terrified her, seeing Marianne consume some part of her, but it would have been harmless for anyone else. Besides, her beastly urges were only supposed to come out at night. So it must have been nothing but a simple misunderstanding.

“It’s quite alright,” Dorothea said, picking her kitchen knife back up and continuing to cut the carrots laid out in front of her. “I know you didn’t mean anything foul by it.” Marianne’s face lit up, which Dorothea felt was enough of a reward for sticking with her. When she was asked to help prepare dinner the other day, she had turned Marianne down, discomforted by her strangely confident disposition. But since then, she had slowly gone back to being the skittish and nervous girl Dorothea was familiar with.

So, when Dorothea was asked if she’d like to help make lunch, she decided she’d participate. Besides, the kitchen was too lovely to ignore. The meal for the day was soup, and the smell of spices and broth was thick in the air. It was an Edmund family recipe, combining onions, carrots, a hint of basil, and a secret blend of herbs and spices. So secret, in fact, that when it came time to put them in, Dorothea was forced out of the kitchen so she couldn’t see the process. She was allowed back in to help stir, however.

They had made enough soup for most of the estate to have a bowl, but many servants were content with preparing their own meals. It was all so peaceful and structured, as if the estate was one large organism with every individual piece working in unison. And as Dorothea began to eat the savory soup she had helped craft, she felt like she was one of those pieces.

It was as if Dorothea was back at Garreg Mach, spending the days doing chores and enjoying the little moments, like finding a good book or feeling the sun’s warmth on the back of her neck. But she chose to be at Garreg Mach. She chose that life. She was still a prisoner here, and if she dared try to leave, the illusion of her content life would be shattered. But what a lovely illusion it was.

Marianne, meanwhile, felt as if her fantasy was being ripped away from her. Just a few days ago, she had this sense of peace in her soul, giving her a clarity she could only recall having once or twice before in her life. She had the strength to prepare measures for Edelgard’s arrival. But as the days went on, she felt that strength being sapped away, leaving her not only as weak as usual, but now aware that she could be better than this.

Scouring through her memory to find some sort of catalyst for her sudden bout of confidence gave no leads. If anything, she should’ve been the worst she’d been in a long time. She ate Dorte. But only a day later, she was back in tip top shape. This lack of leads not only worried her, but made her grow suspicious.

It was only when Marianne tasted Dorothea’s blood that she began to piece things together. While she claimed it was an innocuous act, the truth was that just the metallic scent was enough to give her mental tunnel vision. All she could focus on was the blood. She had to taste it. Her mind screamed at her to stop, not to dare even touch Dorothea, but she couldn’t stop herself.

Then, one the blood had entered Marianne’s system, she began to calm down. Common sense returned to her. Her heartbeat slowed back to a regular pace and her nerves settled. She stayed long enough to finish preparing the soup, but after that was said and done she headed to the gardens. Then, she entered the forest.

The estate’s graveyard wasn’t a long walk away, but to Marianne, it felt like hours passed before she finally arrived. The small plot of land was populated almost entirely by headstones with the names of past Edmund family members engraved on them. The only exceptions were the small handful of loyal servants who had died on the grounds.

Marianne had missed the funeral, being too busy dealing with Edelgard’s imminent arrival to mourn with the others. From what she had heard, it had been a beautiful affair, with flowers and kind words abound. The servant may not have held the Edmund name, but his passing was by all accounts a death in the family.

Every servant of the Edmund family held only the most absolute loyalty. Many were saved by the Edmunds at some point or another, leading them to feel indebted. It had initially stemmed as a paranoia from the earliest generations who were terrified of spies and traitors, but over the ages it became something to flaunt. There were no traitors working in the Edmund family estate. Everyone was thoroughly vetted and only allowed to serve after the margrave and all immediate relatives gave the okay.

This gave two distinct advantages. The first was that the Edmund family could live without the fear most nobility held of being killed in their sleep or having their secrets uncovered by hostile forces posing as loyal retainers. The second was that, because of the often low staff count on the estate, the children of the family grew up understanding the value of hard work. Only the margrave was spared from daily chores, and even then, helping regardless was seen as indicative of a strong leader.

Because of this, Marianne knew how to dig up dirt. She was familiar with the strain of shoving a shovel into tough ground and upturning it. Dirt caking her fingers and getting under her nails did not bother her like it would so many other noblewomen. But desecrating the grave of her servant ravaged her heart; that was the true challenge. Still, she persevered, having to know if her suspicions were true.

Eventually, Marianne’s shovel hit something rough. She dug up the rest of the dirt over the coffin before climbing down into the pit she had dug. Slowly, hesitantly, she opened the lid of the coffin. There was nothing inside. Not even a bone.

“Lady Edmund,” Emma said from above the pit, peering down at Marianne. “Would you like help getting out?”

Marianne looked at Emma, overcome with disgust. “You...Emma…”

“Yes. Even in death, he was able to serve you one last time.” Marianne felt her insides trying to work their way up her throat. “You should be aware that you’ve already processed that meal. All you’d be throwing up is today’s lunch.”

“He wasn’t a meal!” Marianne shouted, looking up at Emma. “He was a person! And you made me...oh, goddess…”

“It was a regretful decision. However--”

“Don’t talk like that!” Marianne shouted. “Don’t say you’re sorry! I know you’re not! Y-you’re never sorry for anything you do! You’d feed him to me again if you could!”   
“Lady Edmund, you were not in your right mind at the time. Emperor Edelgard’s arrival forced me to put you in a better position to handle it.”

“Do I look like I’m in a better position!?” Marianne said, holding her arms out. She was covered in dirt, trembling from head to toe, and weeping profusely.

“I did not realize the effects could be less potent than they were last time. I intended to inform you of this once our encounter with Edelgard was complete.”

Marianne wanted to crawl up in that coffin and be buried in her servant’s place. It was proper penance for what she did to him. Only natural. She walked closer to Emma, and when the woman held out her hand, Marianne took it. Emma pulled her up and out of the pit before grabbing the shovel. “I will fill this hole, Lady Edmund,” she said, getting to work. “I believe it would be best for you to return to the manor.”

“No,” Marianne said, staying where she was. “I’ll wait until you’re done.” She stared into the pit, into the empty coffin, as Emma emptied dirt into it. The attendant didn’t argue.

As more and more dirt filled up the pit, Emma spoke. “It won’t be long, now,” she said. “Edelgard will be here soon.”

“I know,” Marianne said solemnly.

“She’s not the kind of woman to wish only to catch up. She wants something.”

“I know.”

“She’s doubtlessly heard the rumors. The stories of beasts lurking in what was once Edmund land. The power they hold.”

“I know.”

“And since the man you relinquished your title to is a supporter of Adrestia, Edelgard is well within her legal right to do whatever she’d like with us.”

“I know.”

“What will you do?”

“...I’ll prepare for the end of days.” Marianne’s apocalyptic description felt fitting to Emma.

When Dorothea was told Marianne wished to speak with her alone, she had a gut feeling that something very bad was about to happen. It was the same feeling she got when a storm was coming; there was a twist in her chest, hairs on the back of her neck standing up, a feeling of static electricity building in the air. She supposed it was a result of her familiarity with thunder spells. She felt much more in-tune with the flashes of sheer power storm clouds could bring once she was able to channel them herself.

Marianne was in her chambers, sitting by a window and staring out of it. Dorothea stood quietly, knowing that Marianne was aware of her presence. She heard the door opening, after all. Eventually, the blue-haired girl turned her head to look at her. “Hello, Dorothea.”

“Hello, Marianne.” Already, Dorothea felt tense. “What was it you wanted to discuss with me?”   
“I want to tell you some things,” Marianne said, motioning to a chair nearby. “Would you like to take a seat?”

“Sure,” Dorothea said, walking to the chair and sitting down.

“I’m sure you’ve wondered,” Marianne said, “why I was your sponsor.” She kept her gaze near Dorothea but couldn’t manage to look her in the eyes. “Why I was so interested in you.”

“The question has crossed my mind more than once, I admit.” Dorothea crossed her legs.

“Do you know that Emma has been my personal attendant since the day Margrave Edmund adopted me? I don’t know what originally brought her into the family’s service, but she’s been nothing but loyal to me. She wasn’t a friend to me - the relationship was too professional for that - but it still was a relationship. I felt closer to her than I did my adoptive father. Oh, not that I didn’t feel close with him.”

“I know what you mean, Marianne,” Dorothea assured.

“Right. Right. Well, I suppose I got too comfortable here. Because when I was told I would be attending Garreg Mach, I imploded. I couldn’t imagine leaving this place. And when I did, I felt lost. I had a room, I knew where it was, but I never felt any desire to go to it. I just...wandered. I missed all of the orientation meetings, I never went on the tours of the academy.

“But then, when the sun was setting, I heard a voice. It was so lovely, I just had to find out where it was coming from. And when I found it, I saw you. You were at a balcony by the graveyard, staring out at the horizon, singing about a funeral. It was all so grim. But when I watched you, I felt so happy. And I couldn’t understand why.”

“Marianne…”  _ A Funeral for Amelie. _ Of course. Dorothea had sung it that day.

“I wanted to keep feeling happy. So every day, I would try to spend time near you. I’m ashamed to admit it got rather close to stalking at points. I learned everything I could about you: your favorite foods, the nicknames you gave all of the Black Eagles, how you’d always listen to gossip but never spread it, the way you’d frown when somebody spoke ill of you when they thought you weren’t listening...but most of all, I loved to listen to you sing. It reminded me of a fairy tale about a songbird that...well, that isn’t important.

“When Garreg Mach fell, the first thing I did after getting back home was figure out what had happened to you. After I heard you had gone back to performances, I was so overjoyed. I bought a ticket to the first show I could. I counted down the days, unable to wait to see you again. I was going to meet you after the show and confess to everything, to admit how I had grown to feel. I was going to tell you that I had fallen in love with you. And then my father fell ill.”

Dorothea had no idea what to say. She wasn’t even sure if she should say anything at all. Regardless, Marianne continued. “It started as a simple cold, but then it degenerated into pneumonia. One night, he summoned me to his chambers. He started to tell me what I needed to do, how I had to inherit his title and continue his work. And all I could think about was that I was going to miss your show. I was so selfish. Stupid. My emotions got the better of me. And that was when I started to grow hungry.

“At first, it was just a small pang here and there. I ate a little more, but it just grew and grew. And as it grew, so too did my emotions. They started to run rampant. I would shout at servants when they made a mistake, I would ignore my father’s requests, and I would isolate myself. The hunger just grew and grew, until it was a struggle not to collapse if I moved. And eventually, I did collapse. When I woke up, I was in the attic, in a safe room created in case of an invasion. And I was covered in blood.”

Marianne’s voice had become detached, as if she were simply reciting an event without any emotion. “Emma informed me that during the night, I broke down the door to my father’s room, climbed onto his bed, and tore his throat open with my teeth. By the time someone arrived, I had already chewed most of his face off. And by the time Emma managed to tie me up and get me into the safe room, his entrails were spilled out all over the bed. It took a few days for the reality of the situation to settle. It came to me along with my returning hunger. My father was dead by my hand. I had digested him. And I felt good. It was only once I grew hungry again that I began to grieve. Emma came up with the idea of bringing me animals to eat, and it sated my desire. I abandoned my nobility and told the world that my father had died of his pneumonia. I retreated back into the safety of the estate. I was content with becoming a recluse, keeping the world safe from my hunger. But I never did get to see your show.

“So I had Emma begin donating funds to you whenever you struggled financially. I wanted to show my love in some sort of way, but I knew it couldn’t be traced to me. I didn’t want to put you in any sort of risk. But over the months, I grew desperate. I needed the comfort you gave me. So I made a foolish, childish, self-centered decision. I invited you here. ‘Just one performance,’ I told myself. ‘She’ll be gone before half a week can pass.’ I was such an idiot. And now you’re here, and it’s all my fault.”

“I…” Dorothea tried to speak, but nothing came out. Marianne’s confession had left her utterly shellshocked.

“I love you, Dorothea,” Marianne said. “I love you with all my heart. Just being near you makes me happy. But I can’t hurt you. I’d sooner take my own life than risk your safety.” Marianne finally managed to look Dorothea in the eyes. “You must leave. Leave and never return. Do not look back, do not think a moment longer about me. Forget I ever existed. Forget the curse that I have wrought upon you, and forget the misery that my love for you has created.”

“Something brought this on,” Dorothea finally said, “didn’t it? Something happened.”

Marianne nodded. “In two days, Emperor Edelgard will visit this estate. I have no doubt that her intentions are ill. I won’t delude myself into thinking that this can end well. I did everything I could to keep this estate safe. But in the end, I failed. But I won’t let you face the consequences of my failure. In the morning, I will have a carriage ready. It will drop you off at the nearest town with a significant sum of money. What you do then is up to you, but I ask that you do not return, ever.”

Silence enveloped the room. Neither Dorothea nor Marianne could speak. The former was struggling to come up with an answer, and the latter had nothing more to say. When Dorothea eventually did figure out what to say, she spoke it hesitantly. “You said...you said my singing reminded you of a fairy tale. What was it?”

Marianne was surprised, but she answered regardless. “It’s the story of a songbird. She loves to chirp and tweet and sing, but she feels as if her songs pale in comparison to the majesty of the human voice. She prays to the Goddess every day that she might become a human and join them in their singing. And one day, the Goddess answers her prayer, granting her a human form. But this gift has a condition. If the songbird can discover the joy of human song before the day is done, she may stay in her human form. But if she fails, she will turn back into a bird.

“The songbird immediately begins joining the people in song, relishing the harmonies and melodies they can create. But every time the singing ends, she moves on to find the next group of people she can join.”

“Does the songbird stay as a human?” Dorothea asks quietly.

Marianne shakes her head. “When the day ends, the songbird finds herself back in her original form. She asks the Goddess why. The Goddess tells her that the true joy of human song is not the music itself, but the bonds they form through song. The moral of the story is that one must treasure life not for what they achieve, but for the people who they bond with.”

“It’s a sad story,” Dorothea said, looking down.

“I used to think so too,” Marianne said. Once again, the room returned to silence as Dorothea was left trying to come up with an answer. But no matter how hard she tried, it never seemed to come.


	6. Chapter 6

Three carriages traveled down the road, each ornately designed. The horses were bred from the best. The soldiers in the carriages were a part of the emperor’s personal guard. But all of these symbols of power would be nothing without the emperor herself, sitting in the middle carriage with her hands held together in her lap and her legs crossed. Her hair was done up in two buns, ornamented with a crown made to look like horns on either side of her head. And throughout the entire ride, she stayed completely silent.

When the emperor’s carriages arrived outside the Edmund manor, Marianne was waiting on the front porch to greet them. With intricately braided hair and a beautiful dark blue dress, she gave off a feeling of gentle grace. That appearance helped hide how panicked she truly was. “Emperor Edelgard,” she said as the leader stepped out of her carriage, clad in a crimson dress that wasn’t far off from her battle armor. Out of the frontmost carriage stepped Hubert - Hubert with different hair and clothes, but Hubert all the same - who walked to Edelgard’s side, per usual. The more things changed, the more they stayed the same.

“Lady Edmund,” Edelgard said, giving a small nod of indication.

“Please, there’s no need for that,” Marianne said with a gentle smile. “I relinquished my claim to nobility. Marianne is fine. Ms. Edmund, if you wish for formalities.”

“Ms. Edmund, then.” Edelgard looked up at the sun, which had just begun to move its way down the sky. “You’re right; the sky is lovely at this time of day.” That was the excuse Marianne used in her letter of correspondence, not wanting to host the dinner at a late hour.

“The chefs are wrapping up preparations for the meal,” Marianne said, stepping to the side of the door. “Would you like to come in?”

“Of course,” Edelgard said, walking to the porch with Hubert always staying close. With every step closer that Edelgard took, Marianne feared her calm disguise would fail. But if the emperor did notice, she said nothing of it, instead walking past her and into the manor. “I must say, this estate is remarkable. Truly a beauty to behold.”

Marianne followed behind Edelgard and Hubert, with the royal guards following her in turn. “Ah, well, most of that is thanks to the original architect,” Marianne said. “This manor was built to last. My contributions have been primarily to the gardens.” The halls of the manor were empty, save the occasional servant passing through to attend to work. They all made sure to keep their distance from the guests.

Marianne did her best to give a typical tour of the estate. “This statue here was carved by Nicholai Tarny back in 1053, and embodies the artistic movement of its era. Note the intricate details in the clothing, which many sculpters of the time were obsessed with.” They traveled all over the first and second floors of the building, taking their time in examining the architecture, art, and artifacts.

Only once the food was ready did the group head back downstairs and into the dining room. The rectangular table was set and the plates were filled. Edelgard took a seat at one far side, and Marianne sat down at the other. Hubert took a seat near, but not next to Edelgard. “Your men are welcome to partake as well,” Marianne said. “We have plenty to go around. As long as you are okay with that., of course.”

“I don’t see why not,” Edelgard said. She gave a nod to the guards, who nervously sat down, clearly not having expected that sort of treatment. Servants quickly entered the dining room with more plates for the extra mouths. “May I ask exactly what this meal is?”

Marianne smiled. “Since this is a daytime meal, I thought something more casual would suit it better. The main course is vegetable soup sourced from the estate’s gardens. There are various ingredients, but what makes it is the secret Edmund family recipe. We also have a side salad with dressing, and for dessert we will be enjoying a strawberry puree crêpe.” She held back a sigh of relief as she pulled off her rehearsed script without stumbling over any of her words.

“That sounds lovely,” Edelgard said, gathering up a spoonful of soup and sipping the broth. “Delicious. I don’t suppose I can convince you to tell me that secret recipe.”

Marianne giggled. “Unfortunately, I must keep that secret, even from the emperor.”

“Expected. Still, I had to ask.” Edelgard grabbed her glass of wine and took a sip. “What bottle is this from?”

“An 1151 DeVour bottle,” Marianne answered. “The vineyard it came from no longer exists, but the wine still does.”

Hubert drank some of the wine out of his glass and nodded. “I recognize the flavor. It is indeed a DeVour.” He seemed genuinely impressed. Then again, if anyone in the room was going to be a wine expert, it would be him. “Do not drink too much, Lady Edelgard. This wine is particularly potent.”

“Noted,” Edelgard said. Marianne gulped, hoping they didn’t assume any ill intent from her. Emma was the one who had picked it out, saying it was one of their most delicious bottles. It seemed neither of them had anticipated this level of caution from Edelgard. “I must thank you for giving your position in the Alliance to Duke Ward. His support has been quite the boon for us.”

“Think nothing of it,” Marianne said. “I simply gave the position to a man I trusted. His affiliations had nothing to do with it.”

Edelgard frowned. “Come now, that’s hardly believable. If it was truly based on trust alone, you would have given your position up to a Riegan loyalist. You and Claude were close in the academy, after all.”

“We were just in the same house. There was never any real relationship. By your logic, I’d have been particularly close to Lorenz as well.”

“Fair enough,” Edelgard said. Anyone who had met Lorenz would know how much of an acquired taste he was, to put it gently. “Still, I know you chose the Ward family for a reason.”

Marianne paused, then sighed. “I suppose I may as well be truthful. I gave up my claim to nobility so that I could seclude myself. I knew that Claude would see my intention, so I didn’t need to worry about him. But I needed a reason for Adrestia to also leave me alone.”

“So you gave power to a loyalist. Your late stepfather taught you well.” Edelgard smiled. “You’re as apt a diplomat as he was.” She took another sip of her wine. “I suspected as much. It’s why I’ve done exactly as you wanted until now.”

“But,” Marianne said, “you’re not here simply to catch up on old times.” Edelgard nodded. “May I ask why, then?”

“So far you’ve understood my intentions. Why do you believe I am here?” Edelgard held her hands together and set them on the table.

Marianne went silent. She gazed around the room, looking at the guards, all still eating their meals. Then, she stood up, and all of them stopped, going rigid. Her eyes drifted back to Edelgard as she sat back down. “Your men aren’t very good at bluffing,” she said, taking a drink of her wine. As Emma had predicted, this method made Edelgard’s intentions clear as day. “I see no other reason why they would be so cautious towards me merely standing up.”

Edelgard’s smile faded. “It’s true, then.”

“I never said that,” Marianne pointed out. “You came here because of the stories. The local villagers love to gossip about this estate and the evil beast within. They say they hear growling at night. It’s a wonderful ghost story, but it’s nothing more than that, I’m afraid.”

Edelgard leaned forward, resting her chin on her hands. “I’ve found that stories that persist tend to be rooted in some form of truth.”

“And you’d be right,” Marianne said. “Occasionally, the local children will dare one another to knock on the manor’s door. It’s one of those silly tests of bravery. And every now and then, the servants like to make some scary noises to frighten them. Honestly, I need to put my foot down on that front, especially now that the rumors have gone so far.”

“I see.” Edelgard took another sip of her drink, closing her eyes. “This may be a selfish request, but…” Her eyes opened, narrowed, and stared right at Marianne. “May I observe the estate tonight?” Tension was thick in the air, hanging like a fog. “After all, if you have nothing to hide, there is no reason to deny me.”

Marianne felt her blood run cold. She was supposed to stand strong, to deny this request, but she could barely stop herself from trembling, let alone rebuke the emperor. Her servants were nearby - Emma was nearby, but Edelgard was closer. It was as if Marianne was being suffocated.

“That’s quite the false equivalence, don’t you think?” The voice drew everyone’s attention. Standing in the doorway to the dining room was a dreadfully familiar face. The tension didn’t lift; rather, it shifted to the newcomer, who seemed completely unfazed by it. “I doubt there’s a dagger under your dress, but I wouldn’t expect you to lift it up to show me. And that’s not just because I’ve seen that spot before.”

“Dorothea,” Edelgard said, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Hello, Edie.” Dorothea stepped into the dining room as Emma hurried past her.

Emma bowed, saying, “My sincerest apologies, Lady Edmund. She walked past me and through the front door before I could stop her. I will remove this unwanted guest immediately.”

“No,” Edelgard commanded, her voice returning to its form, authoritative tone. “This woman will stay.”

“With all due respect, Emperor Edelgard, you are not the one I serve,” Emma pointed out.

“It’s alright,” Marianne said, holding a hand up. “She can stay.” Emma looked at her, confused and worried. Dorothea, meanwhile, gave a confident smile. She took the closest seat to Marianne, acting oblivious towards the countless pairs of eyes staring at her. “What brings you here, Ms. Arnault?” Marianne asked, trying to maintain a formal appearance. “If I remember correctly, you were supposed to be rather far from here by now.”

“Well, I did leave, but then I stayed a night at the village and thought that I should stick around.” Dorothea sat up as her smile grew wider. “So here I am!” She was wearing the same red dress she had left wearing, which made Marianne think her story was actually true.

“I do think,” Edelgard said with a clear of her throat, “that an explanation is required, Ms. Edmund.”

“Ah, you see…” Marianne twiddled her thumbs under the table. “Ms. Arnault was invited here for a private performance. This was before I received your letter, of course. She was...currently going through financial difficulties, so I extended the offer for her to stay until she got back up on her feet, so to speak.” She was making it up as she went along, hoping nothing would end up contradicting any prior statements.

“That’s right!” Dorothea exclaimed. She reached under the table, grabbed one of Marianne’s hands, and lifted it up, holding it tight. “Mari has been such a lovely host.” Marianne tried her best not to break down into a flustered mess as she felt Dorothea’s soft, warm hand gently squeeze hers.

“...Mari…?” Edelgard repeated in what almost sounded like jealousy. “Ms. Edmund, you are aware of Ms. Arnault’s status, correct?”  
“Oh come on Edie,” Dorothea said, laughing. “There’s no need for formalities with me!” The nickname visibly struck a chord in the normally stalwart Edelgard, who was struggling to maintain a professional appearance. Marianne found it a bit comforting that she wasn’t the only one scrambling to adapt to Dorothea’s appearance.

“Ms. Arnault,” Edelgard said, frowning, “you are a wanted woman in the Adrestian Empire.”

“Oh come on Edie, you know how I like to play hard to get.” Dorothea winked.

Hubert stood up and made his way around the table. “Lady Edelgard, I will remove this vagrant from your sight.”

“Vagrant!?” Dorothea exclaimed indignantly as Hubert roughly pushed her hands behind her back. “Is that any way to treat an old friend, Hubie?”

“Don't just sit there and stare,” Hubert said to the guards. “Half of you stay here. The other half, come with me.” A few guards quickly got up and followed, and the rest followed shortly after.

Emma walked to the main hall and watched Hubert drag Dorothea away. She was still talking as if she were some vapid airhead. “Hubert, don’t tell me you’ve still got a stick up your ass! I thought a new haircut made a new man! I love that haircut, by the by. Very menacing.” As they approached the door, something fell out of her sleeve. The guards were too busy getting into formation to notice as it landed on the floor. “Okay, alright, I relent! You always did like your girls tied up, didn’t you?”

They left out the front door without so much as an acknowledgement of Emma. She looked around to make sure there weren’t any stragglers before hurrying to the dropped item. She bent down and picked the slip of paper up, unfolding it. On it was a short, simple message, hastily scrawled.

_They know._

Emma didn’t allow herself time to react. Instead, she turned, walked back to the dining room, and cleared her throat to draw attention. “My sincerest apologies for the disturbance. I do believe it is time for dessert. I will fetch it posthaste.” It was an unassuming signal, but one that they had developed prior to the dinner. After all, if Emma believed it was time for dessert, she simply would have brought it out without notifying the guests. She just hoped Marianne wouldn’t make it obvious that she was aware.

After retrieving the pastries and giving one to everyone at the table, Emma excused herself. She set the empty tray in the kitchen and headed for the study, and more specifically, the fireplace. It was hard not to reminisce whenever she entered this room; she’d often recall Lord Edmund toiling away at report after report, managing an entire region with nothing but a quill and some magic words. It was here that she had first been assigned to watch over Marianne, and where she had promised to fulfill that duty no matter what.

Grabbing a matchbook off the mahogany desk near the back, Emma struck a match and tossed it into the fireplace. Everything that could be removed from the manor without arousing suspicion had already been taken care of. The dogs and cats were loaded up in the wagons. And once the servants gathered at the stables with said valuables and animals saw the smoke from the fire, they would know to flee.

“Quite an odd time to light a fire, isn’t it?” Hubert asked. Emma spun around, staring at the imperial retainer. He had the faintest hint of a smirk on his face.

“It’s quite rude for a guest to explore as they see fit,” Emma said, staring at Hubert.

“Well, it is equally rude to lie to the emperor.” Hubert’s eyes narrowed. “I’d like to be frank with you, as Lady Edelgard is a very busy woman, and I’d prefer not to waste her time. Your lady is hiding a secret that we are interested in learning - a secret about the Crest of the Beast.”

Emma’s eyes widened in shock. “How did you--”

“It’s quite handy,” Hubert continued, “the resources Adrestia grants. Allows you to uncover all sorts of information. Let’s go over such information. The late Margrave Edmund paid a hefty sum to the church so that your crest would be covered up. This crest is exceedingly rare, lost to what little history mentions it.”

“You trust information from the church?” Emma asked, raising an eyebrow. “I didn’t realize you were capable.”

“I’m capable of filtering truth from fiction. It’s a skill necessary for interacting with the church. I’m capable of many other things, as well. For example, I’m capable of predicting the tactics of a woman who I’ve only known to be a cowardly whelp.”

Emma nearly moved to slit the bastard’s throat then and there, but she kept her cool. “Excuse me.” It wasn’t a question, but a demand. A quiet, short one, but one that delivered with it a warning to be very careful.

“How very like Marianne von Edmund to flee, yes?” Hubert, that rat _bastard,_ had the gall to grin. “Though I will admit, buying her servants time to escape is slightly more than I expected from her. I prepared for it, of course, but I certainly didn’t expect it.”

“You…” Emma’s hands balled into fists. The fire behind her began to grow brighter, larger, its heat washing over her back.

“Understand the position you are in, Ms. Emma, was it? Ms. Emma. Or, should I say, understand the position your fellow servants are in.” Huberts words snapped Emma out of her rage. The fire diminished. “Very good.” He nodded in approval. “Now, here is what we are going to do. We are going to go back to the dining room, and we are going to tell Marianne that the jig is up. She is going to inform us of exactly what is happening in this estate. She will cooperate fully with Lady Edelgard. And in exchange, there will be no lives lost today. Do you understand?”

Emma bit her tongue, not trusting herself to answer politely. She had tried so hard to stay calm because of situations like this. She couldn’t afford to lose control.

“A simple nod will suffice,” Hubert said. Emma forced herself to nod. “Very good. Ladies first.” With one hand still in a fist, she walked to the door and slowly turned the knob. She passed through the doorway, and after a brief check to make sure he was following, she headed to the dining room. She walked carefully, looking around at the halls she had called home. Deep down, she knew this would be the last time she would see them.

Yes, she thought to herself, I’m never seeing this place again. No matter where the chips fall, this is the end. It was nice while it lasted, she supposed. Her fist curled tighter. When they reached the dining room, it hurt Emma to see how normal everything looked. Edelgard had seemingly just finished telling a joke, as Marianne was giggling wildly. Not much was able to make her laugh like that. Was this Edelgard’s true power? The ability to put on a face that suited the situation, keeping her true thoughts hidden behind a well-crafted disguise.

Emma walked over to Marianne and set a hand on her shoulder. “Lady Edmund,” she said, softly but firmly, the tone she always used when broaching a tough subject. “You are a wonderful young woman. And I know that your father, if he were here, would be immensely proud of you. I know that I am.”

Marianne had stopped giggling, and was now looking up at Emma, confused and concerned. “What’s the matter, Emma? You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.” She stopped and sniffed. She sniffed again, deeper this time. And her eyes widened, flashing to the clenched fist Emma held at her side. Oozing between her fingers, slowly but steadily, was a glob of blood.

Nobody had any time to react. Emma pushed her hand against Marianne’s face, smearing it with the blood she had drawn with her nails. “You must live, Lady Edmund,” Emma said as Marianne screamed, trying to pull away. Emma grabbed the back of her head and held it against her bleeding hand, forcing her to smell it. “You must survive. Survive!”

Edelgard and Hubert were shouting something, but Emma was no longer paying attention. She looked at Marianne as her eyes began to glaze over. Then, they refocused, no longer looking at her loyal servant of almost a decade, but at prey. She was surrounded by prey. The blood was a reminder of that fact. Yes, she was the hunter, the beast that needed to dine on only the freshest meat. The true dinner had begun. Emma smiled lovingly as Marianne growled. It was becoming harder to keep her head in place.

Hubert yanked Emma back, shouting furiously. Emma just chuckled. “You never should have come here,” she said as Marianne fell to the ground. “Lady Edmund is no coward. She is a wolf in sheep’s clothing.” It seemed that while they knew there was a beast in the Edmund estate, they didn’t know that the beast was the Edmund herself.

Marianne pushed herself up from the ground, on all fours. Her back was hunched at an unnaturally sharp angle. Her entire body swayed with each inhale and exhale. Her breath, gods, her breath, it was as if she was using shriveled lungs, barely able to support enough life to keep her going. The rasp, the hiss, it created a haze of expelled air. Her head shakily turned towards Hubert and Emma, showing a face that was contorted into a twisted snarl. And with a forceful growl, she braced her limbs and pounced.


	7. Chapter 7

The imperial guard cast an intimidating figure, arms crossed and eyebrows frowning. “What are you doing here?” he asked Dorothea, who was thoroughly unimpressed.

“What are  _ you _ doing here?” Dorothea asked back, crossing her arms.

“I’m asking the questions here,” the man said.

“No,  _ I’m _ asking the questions here,” Dorothea said.

“Don’t think I’m afraid to hurt a pretty face,” the man warned, uncrossing his arms.

Dorothea smiled, uncrossing her own arms in turn. “Neither am I. Oh, but it’s a good thing I won’t have to worry about that happening.” For a moment, she worried the man was actually going to punch her, but his temper seemed to subside. He likely knew by the way Edelgard had looked at her that she was precious goods.

Trying to think back on why she was here only resulted in confusion. Dorothea had been dropped off in the nearby town with a hefty sum of money and orders to get as far away as possible. For three nights she stayed at the local inn, telling herself that in the morning she’d arrange travel out of there. But every morning, she’d stay. She didn’t ask herself, because she didn’t want to face her own reasons.

It was when the imperial carriages passed through the town that Dorothea finally worked up the courage to go back. It was strange to her how determined she was, considering what she was going back to. Marianne, that poor girl, had tried to devour her. Edelgard was...well, Edelgard. Neither of them were faces she particularly wished to see. But she returned anyway.

Everyone was in the manor when Dorothea arrived, so she used the opportunity to investigate the carriages. They were locked tight, but she still had a hairclip and the knowledge of how to use it, so she got her way in without too much trouble. The horses didn’t raise a fuss, thank the goddess, so she was able to check everywhere she could. And when she unlocked the storage compartments in the back, she felt dread fill her gut.

They were filled with weapons. Not normal weapons of war, but specially designed items. Blessed weapons, beastslayers, the kinds of instruments of death specifically used to kill demonic beasts. Dorothea hurried to grab a piece of paper she had spotted earlier and used the quill accompanying it to pen a hasty message. Then, after working up every ounce of courage she could muster, she approached the front door and knocked.

Now she was here, and she had no idea what was going to happen next. Even then, when the first scream came from the manor, she didn’t find herself particularly surprised. She had assumed things would end in bloodshed. They always did when Edelgard was involved.

It wasn’t long before Hubert emerged, helping an unsteady Edelgard down the porch steps. As they grew closer, Dorothea noticed the blood pooling up around her abdomen, drenching her dress in an even deeper hue of red. Hubert looked right at her. “Get over here,” he ordered. “She needs help.”

Dorothea walked over, staring at the woman who had caused her so much grief. Unlike before, she didn’t feel confident enough to act cocky. “Don’t just stand there and stare,” Hubert snapped. “Start healing her!”

“I can’t,” Dorothea said quietly. “I can’t use my magic.” Hubert didn’t bother questioning her, instead calling her useless and shouting at the guards to start helping. In the chaos of the situation, Dorothea found it easy to slip past them all and walk into the manor. She felt as if she had been hypnotized, stuck in a complete daze and only walking because of instinct.

The stench hit Dorothea before she even saw the aftermath of what had happened. It was enough to make her want to vomit, but she did her best to hold the contents of her stomach inside. That effort failed the moment she walked into the dining room.

The table had been knocked on its side, with smashed plates and glasses strewn across the floor, mixed in with food and wine. The bodies of numerous imperials were scattered across the room. One had his throat torn open, while another was missing two limbs. Still another had his guts spilling out and onto his lap.

Dorothea stumbled out of the room and fell onto her hands and knees, violently throwing up. She had to crawl away, unable to summon the strength to stand. It felt to her as if she had fallen back into the nightmare she stumbled upon that fateful first night in the estate. Had Marianne of all people truly done this? No, this wasn’t Marianne; this was the creature inside of her. Or at least, that’s how Dorothea rationalized it.

Dorothea gazed up the stairwell, her eyes widening as she saw a blood-soaked Marianne staring down at her from the top step. A pained growl left the girl’s throat, reminding Dorothea just who she was looking at. She sprung to her feet, ready to turn tail and run. Marianne took a step forward before her legs buckled and she fell down the stairs. Instead of fleeing, Dorothea found herself dashing up the steps and grabbing Marianne before she could make it all the way down. The bluenette went limp in her arms, breathing softly. Dorothea tried to focus on that, rather than the copious amounts of blood.

“Oh, Mari…” Dorothea whispered. She found herself running her fingers through the girl’s hair, gently undoing the kinks she found. The hands that tore limbs off bodies laid against her body, as delicate as a newborn baby bird. She had devoured raw flesh, yet her breath smelled sweet, and nothing of the viscera she had been consuming. Why was this murderer, this monster, so beautiful to behold? How did she manage to make Dorothea feel safe?

“Sir, we’ve got our sights on the target!” A man yelled. Dorothea spun around, still holding onto the unconscious Marianne, gazing at the new presence. A trio of Imperial soldiers stared at her, blades drawn. They were all visibly shaking, having emerged from the dining room.

“Don’t let her escape!” Hubert shouted from nearby. Dorothea hurried into the kitchen, keeping Marianne held tightly in her arms. Using her foot to slam the door to the kitchen shut behind her, she kept going, trying to escape out the back. The men stayed close behind, and she became painfully aware of the fact that her safety was in no way guaranteed. Maybe Edelgard could be convinced, but Hubert? He was never too fond of Dorothea.

Stumbling out the back door and into the garden, Dorothea headed towards the setting sun which had begun to paint the sky a red not too different from the blood that stained Marianne. “Come on...come on…” Dorothea muttered, not sure if she was saying it to Marianne or herself.

A fireball soared over Dorothea’s head and exploded in front of her. She stumbled back, turning her head and seeing Hubert standing by the door, his gloved hand held out. “You have one warning, Ms. Arnault,” he shouted. “Drop the beast, now!” The trio of soldiers had been joined by five more, and they were slowly approaching Dorothea, ready to strike. With the fire still raging, she had no way to escape. She backed away slowly, feeling the heat against her back grow stronger.

One of the soldiers walked a little faster, getting in front of the others. Then, he abruptly stopped as his face froze into an expression of surprise. Dorothea stared curiously at him. Then, blood began to ooze from his throat. His head slowly slid off his body, leaving a clean cut cleaving his neck in two. His body hit the ground a moment after his skull. “Stay away from her!” Emma screamed, coming out from behind a hedge. Half her face was bloodied from a cut on her forehead, and her left arm was horribly mangled from the elbow down. Her right arm was held out just like Hubert’s, firing another wind spell at the soldiers. They held up their swords to try and block it, only for it to slice their blades in half and send them flying.

While the soldiers panicked, Hubert calmly sent a blast of dark miasma hurtling towards Emma. She launched a bolt of lightning that pierced the cloud and ended up narrowly missing Hubert, smashing into the wall behind him. Neither of them flinched, instead holding faces of grim determination.

A soldier ran brazenly at Emma, sword raised and ready to carve into her. Before he could get close enough, however, she engulfed him in a fireball. Set ablaze, he screamed and fell to the ground, desperately rolling in an attempt to put the fire out. Staring down at him with seething hatred, Emma shot another fireball, intensifying the heat and making him scream louder. The sight of her in such a terrifying state nearly scared Dorothea stiff, until she remembered Marianne was still leaning against her, held in her arms.

The fire behind Dorothea had finally subsided. She slung Marianne’s arms over her shoulders and ran, carrying her to the best of her ability. The sounds of spellfare echoed behind her as she pushed on, using every last drop of adrenaline her body could give. Branches slashed her cheeks and tore her dress. Her toes hit exposed roots. Even as her entire body ached, she kept going.

When Dorothea finally stopped, the only thing that indicated how long she had been going was the full moon now visible in the sky. She sat Marianne down against a large tree and slumped down beside her, finally taking a chance to rest.

Marianne heard the humming first. Even in her barely conscious state, she recognized the song. Her eyes flickered open, staring up at Dorothea, who had yet to notice she had awoken. Looking around, she realized that her head was resting on Dorothea’s lap. Perhaps if she wasn’t so exhausted, she’d feel embarrassed by this development. The moon was high in the sky, bathing Dorothea in an ethereal pale light. Marianne thought to call her angelic, but that felt like too cliche a word to be used on someone so lovely.

When Dorothea finally glanced down at Marianne, her singing stopped, and she became panicked. “Marianne!? Are you okay?”

“Yes,” Marianne said. “Yes, I’m fine. I’m--” She tried to sit up, only for her entire body to suffer an agonizing wave of pain.

“Stay still,” Dorothea ordered. “Just rest for now.”

“Where are we?” Marianne asked.

“I’m not too sure myself,” Dorothea admitted. “Somewhere near your estate. I couldn’t think of anywhere to go, so I just ran.”

“You saved me…?”

“I…” Dorothea blushed slightly, looking away. “I suppose I did. It wouldn’t do to leave you behind, after all. Not in the state you were in.”

“The state I…” Marianne gasped, recalling what had happened. “Emma! Where’s Emma!?”

“Hey, settle down!” Dorothea said. “You’re gonna hurt yourself.” Marianne hesitantly obliged, relaxing her body. “Emma is...I don’t know. When I last saw her, she was fighting Edelgard’s men. She didn’t look too good. Still, she was holding her own. Bought me enough time to get you out of there. I gotta admit, she was pretty scary.”

“Oh, Emma…” Marianne sighed, hoping the worst hadn’t come to pass. “Dorothea, tell me. How many people did I hurt?” Dorothea didn’t answer, but she did look more nervous. “Please,” Marianne insisted. “What did I do?”

“I only arrived after everything went down,” Dorothea admitted. “But from what I saw before throwing up, you didn’t leave many survivors. Even Edelgard was injured.” She paused. “It’s not your fault, you know.”

“Yes it is,” Marianne said. “It was all my fault. Emma, she cut her hand and made me smell the blood. The sun was up, Dorothea! Why did I give in so easily!?”

“It couldn’t be helped,” Dorothea insisted, trying her best to ease Marianne’s guilt.

“No,” Marianne refuted. “It could. I could’ve been stronger. I should’ve been stronger! Everything that has happened is because of me.”

Dorothea sighed. “Please, don’t say that--”

“Stop trying to make me feel better!” Marianne shouted. “I’ve been a fool, all this time. From the day I first saw you, I’ve been nothing else. I was a lonely, scared, hormonal teenager who attached myself to the first appealing thing I saw. I tried my best to be near you all the time. I practically stalked you! But I couldn’t talk to you, because I was weak. A coward.”

“Marianne, please…” Dorothea whispered.

“I ate my own father! He believed in me, he said I could carry the mantle of Margrave. He trusted me! And I ATE HIM!” Tears were already streaming down Marianne’s face. “Sometimes, when I wake up from my mindless form, I can still taste his blood. And it tastes so good. If he were to suddenly appear, alive and well, I don’t think I’d be able to hold back from doing it again. I...I  _ ate Dorte _ . I loved him so much. I would groom him, feed him sugarcubes and apples, take him on rides through the countryside. And then I tore his ribcage apart and feasted on his entrails.

“I’m the reason you’re here, Dorothea. I was such a miserable wreck that I willingly put you in danger just so I could listen to that stupid song one more time. I nearly killed you. Then I locked you here, kept you as my prisoner. And even then, I couldn’t save my people. The Empire came and took everything away, and I couldn’t stop them. I couldn’t stop them!” Marianne’s voice cracked. “I can’t save you, I can’t save Emma, I can’t save the other servants. I couldn’t save my father. I couldn’t save those poor soldiers I butchered. I can’t even save myself! So why…” She took a deep, pained breath, on the verge of hyperventilating. “Why am I still alive? Tell me, Dorothea. Why do I get to live? Why shouldn’t I just die, right here!? I’m a monster, a worthless waste of skin. I should’ve died a long time ago. No; I should never have even been born!”

Silence filled the air, only disturbed by Marianne’s heavy breathing. Dorothea looked down at her with her bright green eyes. “You saved those animals, didn’t you?” she asked.

“What…?”

Dorothea grabbed Marianne’s hand and intertwined their fingers. “Back at Garreg Mach, there were all those dogs and cats whose lives were in danger. Everyone was focused on running or fighting. Nobody was going to come for them. They were going to die as collateral damage, or starve in the aftermath. But you found them. You gathered them up. You paid mercenaries to transport them halfway across the continent so they could be safe. You let them inhabit the manor and took care of them. I never once saw one of those animals look unhappy. When I came back to help you, I didn’t see any of them wandering the estate. You had them flee, didn’t you? Even though time was running short and you were in so much danger, you took the time to get them to safety.”

“I…” Marianne sniffled. “I had the servants take them. That way they could all escape when things went wrong. But I don’t even know if they wound up safe. The Empire could have caught them.”

“Maybe,” Dorothea admitted. “But even if they did, even if those cats and dogs are going to run out of time, you still granted them years of peace they never would’ve had otherwise. You saved them, Marianne.”

“All I do is hurt people…” Marianne insisted, sobbing.

“If that was true, do you think I would’ve come back for you?” Dorothea asked, smiling gently.

“Why did you come back…?”

“I’m not sure,” Dorothea admitted. “But I think...I think it’s because of you. You make me feel safe. I don’t know how, or why, but when you fell down the staircase and I caught you, I felt...happy. I can’t remember the last time I’ve felt that way.” Marianne felt something wet land on her cheek. “So please…” Dorothea’s smile trembled as tears fell from her eyes and onto Marianne. “Don’t say you’re worthless. Don’t say you’re a burden.”

Marianne began to sit up. “I’m selfish,” she said as her body ached. “I don’t deserve you. I’m dangerous.”

Dorothea wrapped an arm around Marianne and helped her sit upright. “Do you think I’d care about anything as silly as that?”

“It doesn’t make any sense,” Marianne said. Why was Dorothea so insistent? Why was she still here?

“Of course it doesn’t,” Dorothea said, giggling. “Love works that way.” The two leaned towards one another. Their eyes slowly closed. When they kissed, it felt like a foregone conclusion. And for that singular, brilliant moment, everything else faded away. They allowed themselves one selfish kiss to forget about everything else. The world could wait for a few seconds.


End file.
